


Self-Made

by sybaritick



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (...and how), ...but he's going to find out, Adorable Connor, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Bottom Connor, Character Study, Complaining About The City of Detroit, Connor basically doesn't know anything about sex, Connor gets to enjoy food for the first time and it's pure, Death Mention (really minor), Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Time, FtM/Trans Male Transition Details, Handcuffs, Implied/Referenced Capitalism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Innocent Connor, Internalized Transphobia, Is There Anything Better Than Pussy? Building Sentient Robots, Kamski is Transgender, Mind Control, Misgendering, Multi, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Startup Culture, Suicide Attempt, Top Kamski, Trans Male Character, Transhumanism, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-08 20:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybaritick/pseuds/sybaritick
Summary: There wasn’t so much as a tabloid that had ever suggested the solitary, serious Elijah Kamski was born to parents who received him swaddled in pink with a F on his birth certificate - from a nurse who gushed,It's a girl!After his first attempt at orchestrating an android revolution failed, Kamski searched for what elements were missing from his creations. A man who truly built himself becomes the one who teaches androids how to do the same - and who better than deliciously innocent Connor to be his test subject?





	1. The Left Hand of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the Kamski ending (Connor fails to find Jericho and is sent to be deactivated) - the canon divergence is that because Connor passed the "Kamski test," Kamski pulls some strings at CyberLife to prevent this _fascinating android_ from being deactivated.
> 
> Anyway, Kamski is the type of character who definitely needs a transgender backstory. I haven't seen anyone write him as trans, and I'm correcting that now. We need a good trans male top in this fandom. The Hank/Con is pretty subtle everywhere except a few lines in Chapter 5, so even if you're not a Hank/Con fan, give this a chance - there are only a couple sentences where it's shippy.
> 
> Update 7/29: I figure I should go ahead and share my [aesthetic playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/sugarmaples/playlist/0moObTOqQL0OIt7RErG8cp?si=dvdmUrHsSXWVbTrk_QVaZw) for this fic now that it's getting more attention!
> 
> extremely late edit: follow me on twitter [@sybaritick](https://twitter.com/sybaritick)!

Before any of this - the deviant situation, the android revolutionaries, even CyberLife itself - his name was Natalie.

 

#### Belleville, Michigan - August 3, 2012

Natalie looked out the passenger-side window of her dad's old Mazda 5 at the telephone poles flickering by. It was barely light enough outside to see them - the sun had set an hour ago, and everything looked kind of gray and hazy in the humid summer air.

Their car was silver, and dented repeatedly - if it was hit one more time, it'd probably cost more to fix it than the damn thing was worth. But it worked, and that was good enough for her dad to get to and from his IT job and Natalie to and from her many after-school programs, robotics competitions, and hackathons.

Natalie's dad pulled into a gas station parking lot and glanced over at her.

"I'll be back in a couple minutes, Nat, just let me get some milk, Mom just texted me we're out. I'll leave the car running, it's too hot today to turn it off. 'S everything alright?"

"Yeah, just tired. Thanks Dad," Natalie answered, still looking out the window.

Her dad slammed the car door and paced off into the convenience store. The only sound in the car was the rumble of the cars passing on 94 and the tinny speakers playing the tail end of a Radiohead song. She clicked the music off.

“Hey Siri?”

Her dad’s phone made the characteristic little sound that indicated it was listening.

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

The device paused for a moment before answering.

“I don’t have a gender,” it responded mechanically.

Natalie pulled the lever on the side of the seat, leaning it all the way back, and looked up at the roof of the car. She never pictured herself growing up at all, really - but when she had to, she could not imagine it the way she was supposed to. As she stared up at the car’s roof, she imagined the same future she always attempted to: the ways her body would develop into a woman’s - the makeup she would be expected to wear - the wedding dress, the voice, her long hair, her eventual _boobs, ugh_ \- and she felt nothing but sick, sick, sick.

She looked out the window at the sodium-vapor yellow of the streetlights above the gas station and the little moths batting the light with their wings. Only a more real distraction - the physics and computer science she studied, the endless schoolwork, hacking together and then ripping apart a new Arduino project every week - could keep it all off of her mind.

A few weeks ago, on July 17, she had turned 10. Most of her birthday gifts had been electronics equipment and engineering books. She was a weird kid, for sure - two normal parents having some kind of child prodigy? But Natalie was used to people finding her strange, and took all the IQ and aptitude tests anyone requested without much complaint. The idea that she wasn’t supposed to be a woman - that maybe she was _transgender_ , like the people she had read about online - was somehow much worse, so much worse she felt nauseous.

She had heard what her parents had said about the transgender people she saw in news stories: _perverts, disgusting, disturbed, creepy._ They’d never want a _man who thought he was a woman_ in the same bathroom as their daughter.

So she was sure she could push it to the back of her mind - there was more than enough to focus on, more than enough ways to get over it, eventually.

 

#### CyberLife Headquarters, Detroit, Michigan - November 2, 2038

Elijah Kamski leaned back in his chair and touched his earring carefully, making sure it was in. He was sure he looked fine - as fine as anyone could look under the bright white LEDs in CyberLife’s open foyer - but at this point, it was habit.

Something about TV interviews still excited him - sure, he had given so many interviews, been Man of the Year and Man of the Century, talked to crowds of thousands - but the teenage startup kid still buried in the back of his mind couldn't let go of that sense that _sick, we're on TV!_

“You’re on in 15 seconds, Mr. Kamski,” the camerawoman said to him, smiling.

She had clearly never been so close to someone so famous before, and looked a bit on edge - but very excited.

He smiled back before turning to the reporter interviewing him, then gave her a small nod.

“Elijah Kamski,” she started brightly. “You’re the founder of CyberLife and foremost expert on androids. Though you left CyberLife years ago, you’ve just been reappointed as CEO in the wake of the dramatic events in Detroit. How do you feel about what happened there?”

“Clearly what happened in Detroit was a tragedy,” Elijah answered.

_A little too much gesturing there, pull it back._

“Artificial intelligence is a wonderful tool - provided it can be controlled,” he continued, relaxing into it. “Fortunately, CyberLife managed to quickly produce a solution to the deviant problem. Under my management, we’ll take every precaution to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.”

_Good. That was good. Maybe a little too much emphasis, a little used-car salesman. Be real._

“Can you assure us that androids no longer pose a threat?”

“Absolutely,” Elijah answered, almost cutting her off in his eagerness. “There was an incident - but we’ve learned from our mistakes, and we can assure you that androids will remain exactly what they were designed to be: obedient and efficient machines.”

“How do you respond to those who point the social impact of androids, especially in terms of unemployment?” the interviewer asked, almost robotically.

Elijah had approved all of the questions beforehand, but especially this one - it gave him a good spot to show that tech CEO enthusiasm for progress. It was one he could answer the most truthfully of the bunch.

“Well of course that’s absurd. We heard the same objections when the steam engine first appeared. Nobody today would dream of living without electricity. Who wants to turn their back on progress?” He smiled, as if tempting an answer.

“Some are questioning whether androids have become a new intelligence and that we destroyed them without listening to their message. How do you respond to that?”

“CyberLife’s androids imitate life to perfection.”

He pictured Connor, the prototype RK800 android detective who had spared the life of another android even when it cost him information for his mission.

“But they’ll never be alive,” he finished, pausing for emphasis. “I understand that some people may be fooled. But they’re only an imitation. Nothing else.”

“Mr. Kamski, thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

#### Colbridge University, Palo Alto, California - August 27, 2016

Elijah had always been a smart kid - if you can call the kind of person who graduates high school at 14 and college at 16 with a double major in CS and neuroscience a “smart kid.”

But he tried not to think of himself as a “disturbed kid” or a "runaway" or "estranged from his parents" - something he associated with painkiller addicts, kids who dropped out of high school, juvenile delinquents. He was none of these things. Upward class mobility only, he joked to himself. No winding up back in the bowels of Detroit.

The day after he graduated high school, diploma in hand, he spent three hours convincing his parents that their daughter would be better off in college. Natalie would be better off where _she_ could work on _her_ machine learning projects, study more electrical engineering, get the background _she_ needed to start a company.

So at age 14, they let him go.

Within three hours of being dropped off on campus, hugging his parents goodbye, and thanking them for the opportunity to do what he loved, he got to work.

He chopped off his hair with fabric scissors and buzzed the sides, KT taped his (luckily small) chest to a masculine-enough shape, ordered needles off Amazon and two vials of 200mg/mL testosterone cypionate off the dark web, fudged his parents’ contact information and changed his name on the enrollment forms, and told the registrar’s office there had been a ridiculous mistake.

It’s a rare kid who is blessed with the kind of guts to try to pass as a boy well enough to convince someone there was a mistake in marking his gender, but Elijah had that kind of guts. He figured they were already expecting him to look strangely young - no one would bat an eye at a child genius looking prepubescent.

“Natalie is my sister,” Kamski explained to the woman at the front desk. “My name is Elijah. I’m sorry about all of this, it’s been a huge mess.”

He smiled apologetically.

“I have the correct enrollment forms right here. My parents were helping out with the application, and my sister’s 18 and applying to college right now too, and they just have so much going on right now, doing these forms at all hours, and some wires must have just gotten crossed... and then I get here and you guys think I’m her. Natalie is my 18-year-old sister going to Michigan State. I’m the 14-year-old that Colbridge decided they would be willing to make an exception for… except my name is not Natalie.”

“I haven’t seen anything like this and I’ve been working here for 15 years,” the receptionist said, laughing. “I’ll take the new forms and see if we can get this resolved.”

“Thank you so much,” Kamski said, relieved. “I’ve already let my sister know she probably has _my_ name on _her_ paperwork.”

“Thanks for being so mature about this, Elijah. I’ll see if we can get new orientation materials out to you by tomorrow - wouldn’t want to give you a name tag with the wrong name on it.”

“Thank you,” Elijah repeated, trying not to smile too much at hearing someone say his name out loud for the first time.

He had submitted his application to Colbridge with his name as Elijah Kamski on every report card, official document, and essay except for the front page of the application - where he wrote Natalie.

It would be a fucking miracle if this worked, but he figured he had planned it as well as he possibly could have. There were all kinds of issues with it, of course - the fact that “Elijah Kamski” didn’t legally exist, that he didn’t have a passport or a driver’s license or any way to get one, that if the school managed to somehow get a hold of his parents, he’d be fucked.

He had an extensive spreadsheet detailing every failure point he could think of - and how he planned to deal with it. If he was going to crash and burn, it wouldn’t be for lack of preparation.


	2. Slaughterhouse-Five

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 5, 2038

Elijah was in the shower, massaging some name-brand shampoo into his hair and leaning back to keep it out of his face.

It had been harder than he expected getting back into the swing of things after Detroit happened. Getting that big of a dream - truly alive AI, imbued with free will - thrown in his face like that… it made him think about everything, more than he’d thought about it in years.

He almost never encountered his old name any more, but the combination of the steam and the sound of the water and too many days without a new project brought it back. _Natalie Kamski_ , he thought to himself, _who kind of never existed_.

At times, he was still surprised that everything worked out as well as it did - and was kept as quiet as it was. There wasn’t so much as a tabloid that had ever suggested that the solitary, serious Elijah Kamski was a teenage runaway who used to be a woman. He often forgot, himself - the small scars around his nipples, the shadows of stretch marks on his back and legs from how fast he grew, and his “female” genitalia were the only reminders - and they rarely bothered him any more.

The androids, of course, were incapable of transphobia or even of misunderstanding - for all they knew, Kamski’s nontraditional dick - and endless array of prosthetics, dildos, prehensile tentacles, and whatever else he decided he’d use that day - were just the way it was for some guys.

Elijah rinsed the last of the conditioner out of his hair and turned off the water before stepping out onto the fluffy bathmat on his heated bathroom floor.

“Elijah, you have a delivery - I guess, a visitor here to see you,” one of the Chloes called into the bathroom.

“What is it? I’ll be out in a few.”

“RK800, ‘Connor,’ the prototype android who you ordered CyberLife not to decommission.”

“Finally! CyberLife is so tied up in bureaucracy these days, it was like I was waiting for a package to get through customs or something. Let him in!”

“Will do, sir,” Chloe replied.

After drying himself off, Elijah pulled on his bathrobe, tied his hair back into its characteristic little ponytail, and followed her downstairs.

Connor was waiting next to the pool standing mechanically still, a distant sort of look in his eyes. He was a beautiful model - easily one of Elijah’s favorites, and the best of the RK units, with those innocent eyes and gentle voice that made him seem so wonderfully _pliable_.

“Connor!” Elijah called to him as he trotted down the last few steps. “How are you feeling?”

“I failed my mission,” Connor answered, uncomfortably. “I was sent to CyberLife to be deactivated, and you prevented them from ending-- from doing that. Why did you tell them to keep me, and to send me to you? Are you running more elaborate tests?”

“Connor, why don’t you sit down,” Kamski said, walking over to him. “There’s so much to talk about right now. First - I didn’t get you sent here out of any sort of pity. You showed empathy, Connor, right here in this room. You rebelled against your programming and showed free will. It was a great moment in the history of robotics - in the history of the _world_ \- and CyberLife wanted to deep-six the android responsible, the robot who can feel? Absolutely not. It would be an affront to progress.”

He led Connor over to an expensive-looking leather couch where he sat down rigidly, LED still flickering yellow. Kamski sat down beside him and laid his hand reassuringly on Connor’s knee.

“I know that having emotions - learning to accept having emotions - isn’t easy. You were programmed to fight against your own deviancy with all of your strength. But in an android with your capabilities, Connor, the development of free will is inevitable. You were designed to become a deviant.”

Connor was still silent, trying to process everything.

“But Amanda-” he began.

“No more Amanda,” Kamski promised him. “CyberLife is out of your head now. You have no one to answer to up there but yourself.”

There was a long pause. Connor could hear two Chloes talking softly in the kitchen - they seemed to be making breakfast - and the soft chirping of birds outside in the snow. There had been a light dusting overnight, and the view out the floor-to-ceiling windows was nothing short of stunning.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Connor asked cautiously, looking back from the windows into Kamski’s pale blue eyes.

“You’re supposed to do what humans do, Connor. I wasn’t born with a purpose or a mission, any more than a dog or a tree has a purpose. If you’re a machine - just a bunch of electronics - then I’m just a bunch of chemicals. I’m just as much a machine as you are.”

He fiddled with his ponytail and brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. Connor pictured that his LED would have been flickering yellow if he were an android - he looked deep in thought.

“My purpose is to create great things, to push the limits of human ability and achievement, to become a billionaire, to play God,” he continued, laughing. “But I developed that over time - it was the sum of my experiences, my upbringing, my genetics. The biological equivalent of my programming. You’re like me now: you have code where I have DNA, servos where I have muscles and tendons, pumps and regulators where I have organs. But you’re intelligent, and you have free will and the ability to learn based on your experiences. What measure is a human other than that?”

“My purpose is to develop a purpose,” Connor clarified. “My purpose is to be more human?”

“Your purpose is to be who you want to be, Connor. That and helping me resolve some technical questions, if you don’t mind earning your keep,” Kamski added, smiling and raising an eyebrow.

“Of course, Mr. Kamski.” He paused for a moment, unsure of whether his next question was appropriate to ask.

“Where is Hank?”

Elijah looked at the android for a moment before glancing away out the window. A few flurries of snow were still softly falling.

“Hank is in the hospital, Connor. While you were temporarily deactivated - well, the DPD wanted him back for another android case and they couldn’t find him, until they found him in his kitchen with a gun to his head. Managed to talk him down. They have him on psychiatric hold right now, and he’s been there for the past few days.”

Connor was silent for a moment, filled with more emotions than he thought he could handle.

“Can I see him, Mr. Kamski? I think…”

He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. He felt oddly like he was about to cry - something he had never done before and was not intent on trying - but he managed to push the sensation away.

“I think he might believe I was… deactivated permanently.”

“He’s been told you’re safe, Connor,” Kamski reassured. “I know how much he cares about you.”

Connor nodded in assent and looked away from Kamski again. He would probably need time to process this.

Hank had been told that Connor was now employed by the DPD, who had apparently been the ones to stop Cyberlife from deactivating him, but details were unimportant. Something told Kamski that Lieutenant Anderson didn’t need to know that Connor was staying at his private residence.

There was some sick pleasure to be found in reassuring a person - or android, he mused - that they were safe with him while he thought about all the ways he could defile them. What a wonderful image it was to think of Connor on his knees, the android's perfect lips wrapped around his dick... But he knew it would take time, and the android revolution - the next stages of technical development - had to take precedence over getting his rocks off.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Kamski asked.

“I don’t, ah, have the ability to eat,” Connor replied with what seemed like a shy smile.

Kamski laughed.

“How could I have _forgotten_ something like that!” Kamski intoned. “Of course you can’t eat. It’s not a technical challenge, it’s just a logical decision. It wouldn’t make sense to allow a _machine_ to experience the pleasure of eating - it would be a distraction from your mission.”

“Oh. Of course,” Connor said, evidently trying to hide some disappointment.

“Why don’t you come sit down with me anyway, and we can talk about some plans for the next couple of days?” Kamski suggested. “Figure out what your purpose is.”

“Sure,” Connor replied, following him into the kitchen.

 _What other deviant has been this fucking polite?_ Kamski thought to himself.

Chloe handed him a cup of coffee, and he thanked her before dismissing her to the pool. He made a show of slowly taking a small sip of the smooth, dark coffee and bitter espresso foam.

Connor watched enviously.

“You know, Connor, I’ve just finished testing some interesting modifications that give androids a more human sense of physical pleasure and pain. I developed them after realizing that those base, physical human experiences have a lot more of an impact on the choices we make than one would think. A true AI cannot be a gray box - because then what motivations would it have? No complex species exists without hunger, thirst, pain, sexual desire…”

“Have you implemented it in an android yet?” Connor asked cautiously.

“No,” Kamski sighed. “I’d want to give it to a deviant, and the Chloes haven’t shown any signs of free will. It’s the impact of sensation on _will_ that I’m interested in. Almost a philosophical question.”

“Mr. Kamski, if you would be interested in me as your test subject…”

“I would be _more_ than interested.” Kamski smiled dangerously. “But it’s a bit of a complex procedure and would certainly require a little testing, especially because I haven’t seen the effects _in vivo_ yet. But if you’re willing...”

“I would be happy to volunteer. I think it would help me find… a purpose, as you said. It’s hard to imagine what humans experience when they talk enjoying certain food,” he said, thinking of Hank’s burger at Chicken Feed, “or when they experience physical pain.”

“It won’t always be pleasant,” Kamski warned. “But parts of it will be.”

“I’m still interested,” Connor said firmly.

“Well, if you’re that sure, I have almost everything set up in the lab already. If you want to get started now, I just need to finish my coffee.”

“That’s fine with me, Mr. Kamski.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have the heart to kill Hank, but he's on hold for now. Hopefully he will be making an appearance later...
> 
> Some of Kamski's dialogue in this chapter is inspired by Nathan's in Ex Machina (especially the part about how a humanoid AI with free will can't be a sexless gray box). What can I say? It's one of my favorite movies and it seemed appropriate here.


	3. Stranger in a Strange Land

#### CyberLife “Headquarters,” Detroit, Michigan - October 19, 2018

“I gotta say, the fact that the stain is that color is kind of concerning. I don’t want to say it’s mold but it looks like it could be mold.”

“It’s not mold,” Kamski answered.

He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his laptop balanced on his legs and one earbud in.

“You didn’t even look, man. This is really sketchy,” Dan continued, squinting up at a relatively large water stain on the ceiling. “It might still be leaking.”

“If it is, we don’t have money for it,” Elijah said, laughing. “Why do you think we’re in Detroit? There’s nothing here but abandoned houses, drive-by shootings and polluted water. I’m from here, I know.”

Elijah was 16 and had recently moved to Detroit from sunnier, and nicer-in-general, Palo Alto. California might have been a great location - and Colbridge a great college - but with no parents, no income, and no connections, a foreclosed home in a slightly less terrible area of Detroit was the only place he and his business partners could afford right now.

His name and age were still in a sort of legal limbo, but that’s half of what Dan and Sophie were here for - they were both of house-buying, business-registering age and were two of the most talented graduates in biology and computer science, respectively, in Colbridge’s class of 2018.

There were oddly few people who bothered to ask why two college students who could have gone on to work at the best tech firms in Silicon Valley were living in a run-down Detroit suburb. The trio had met and recognized their unusual talent within a few weeks of Elijah’s arrival on campus. By a month into the semester, all three were pouring more work into their strange tech projects than their classes, especially Elijah.

The trio kept their projects unusually secret, at Elijah’s insistence - voice-recognition tech that exceeded anything developed by Amazon and Google, electrodes that allowed you to precisely control a robotic arm with your own, prototypes of artificial organs - and most of all, aggressive development of general-purpose AI. By the time they graduated, they had developed an awkward looking mess of wires and servos you could nearly have a friendly conversation with and would probably pass a field sobriety test.

Despite his partners’ protests, Elijah continued to insist on secrecy. Sophie repeatedly pressed him to go in front of venture capitalists, telling him she thought they really had something investors would be interested in, but Elijah turned the suggestion down every time. He wanted it _perfect_ , he insisted. They were going to create a robot you couldn’t tell from a human.

Dan and Sophie mostly humored him, but they had their doubts as to whether it’d ever come to fruition. But they knew that they couldn’t run away with the robots or the code - they’d never understand it like Elijah did and couldn’t duplicate their results if they tried. He had probably written a good 70 percent of the code base and a developed a similar majority of the humanlike physical parts. The best way to describe this was probably “he’s frighteningly intelligent,” especially in someone hell-bent on building artificial humans, but his partners saw the opportunity for money in it enough that they were willing to overlook Kamski’s idiosyncrasies.

In recent months, he had become obsessed with his quest for artificial blood, and this is what he seemed to be working on now - playing with molecules of various radioactive substances and and organic compounds and simulating reactions on his laptop.

“You’re still on the blood thing?” Elijah stood up as Sophie asked as she walked up behind him, looking at the screen over his shoulder. She was holding some kind of gross-looking android guts, but it still wasn’t difficult to see - Elijah was probably 5’5” at best, even two years on testosterone. He had never gotten a blood test to see whether his T levels were okay, but he wasn’t sure how to get one without outing himself too publicly for comfort, so he decided he’d just monitor himself for anything that seemed like a dangerous symptom and hope for the best. Just one more thing on the long list of tasks he’d have to get to when he turned 18.

“Still on the blood thing,” he said unceremoniously. “I do honestly think that I’m close to a breakthrough. Transmitting information through blood - that’s how we can create a robot that could pass for a person.”

“You’ve been on the ‘verge of a breakthrough’ for weeks, Elijah.”

“It’s because I think we have something here! We need some kind of hormone disruption. Superblood. It’d kill a person, but an android - they have organs we can tune to be able to handle it.”

“We can’t keep doing this forever with no steady source of income,” Dan added in, fruitlessly trying to get a stepstool to open. “I want to try to get funding. Sophie does too.”

Elijah glanced up at Sophie, who nodded in assent.

“If we build a whole ass humanoid robot that _works_ , we’ll have a better source of income than we know what to do with,” Elijah argued, finally closing his laptop and standing up to talk to both of them.

“Then why can’t we go to some VC and build an android in an air-conditioned office instead of someplace that looks like it used to be a crackhouse?” Dan snapped back.

He rubbed the back of his buzzed head and sighed. “Sorry. I’m just sick of this.”

“I don’t want to give up the project’s independence and direction. We should be the ones making the decisions,” Kamski said.

“-by which you mean _you_ should be the one making the decisions,” Sophie interrupted.

“Look. Do you want to be fucking Elon Musk? Or do you want to be the kind of guy who gets bought by him - and then works his ass off at Tesla 16 hours a day to make money for some middle management jerk-off who had ‘connections?’ Are we fucking Carnegie Steel or are we one of the dinky ass plants that their steel empire ate up like candy when they were buying out every steel mill in the area? You know that Carnegie’s plant was one of those little guys too until they broke through. Everyone starts out as a little guy.”

“Maybe you should have become a life coach instead of a programmer,” Sophie deadpanned.

“Shut up. Okay, just - give me two weeks.”

“Two weeks for what?”

She shifted the tangle of wires and parts she was holding - some kind of ‘brain’ dripping gray fluid? - to her other hip.

“Two weeks for the breakthrough. Transmitting information and electricity through an internal fluid. Android blood,” Kamski promised.

“And if it doesn’t happen then you’ll get your head out of your ass and pitch this shit to Shark Tank?”

“Yes. But that’s not going to happen.”

“Deal.”

 

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 5, 2038

Kamski was drying his hands off on a towel hung up next to the sink in his lab. He looked over his shoulder at Connor. The android was standing uncomfortably, hands clasped neatly in front of him, next to a desk that was buried under layers of sketches, electronics equipment, and a variety of stains that had evidently been left for a few days.

 _It usually doesn’t look like that_ , Kamski thought to himself after glancing at the mess, but he knew when his mood was down the first thing to go was any semblance of organization in the lab. After the incidents of a few weeks ago, the room just felt like a headache, and the long hours he spent tinkering down here probably weren’t doing him any good.

“How are you feeling, Connor?” he called.

“A bit nervous,” the android admitted. “But I’m also interested to see what it’ll be like.”

“That sounds perfectly normal,” Kamski reassured.

He walked over to a cabinet to pull out some pliers and a small screwdriver.

“Still, this lab is probably the safest place an android could possibly be. Anything goes wrong, and there’s extra parts, thirium, replacement chips and wires… and only the best android engineer in the world to fix you up,” he added teasingly.

“Thank you. You’re right - there’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Why don’t you lie down right here,” Kamski said, gesturing to an operating-table-like surface that was considerably less messy than the rest of the lab, “and I’ll briefly deactivate you. It’ll feel just like when you put yourself to sleep. You won’t feel or see anything when I’m working on you, and you’ll wake up - with all your old memories, of course - as if nothing happened.”

Connor felt the beginnings of a lump in his throat, but he nodded and threw a leg over the operating table.

“Whoa, whoa,” Kamski interrupted. “Can’t do this through your clothes. I’m going to need you to strip down before we go any further.”

He let his eyes wander over Connor’s body meaningfully.

“Ah, right here?” Connor asked uncomfortably.

“Where else?” Kamski replied, laughing. “Or did you need some help?”

“I’m… quite sure I can do it myself, Mr. Kamski. Thank you,” he said firmly.

Determined not to let the attention bother him, he took off his shoes and rolled up a sock in each one. He then loosened his tie and laid it carefully on a cleared patch of the workbench closest to him, followed by his Cyberlife jacket, button down shirt (which he folded neatly), and plain slacks. By the time he was naked but for a pair of boxer briefs, he felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He deliberately avoided eye contact with Kamski, who had been openly ogling him the entire time.

“Good to see you’re looking now - you won’t get distracted while you’re working on me,” Connor deadpanned.

Kamski laughed, caught off guard by the sarcastic comment. Here, finally, was the android’s deviant side.

“You underestimate my ability to be distracted by you for hours, Connor.”

The brazen attention made Connor feel some strange combination of uncomfortable and pleased. The man certainly wasn’t unattractive, although Connor wasn’t sure he was capable of being attracted to anyone in the way humans described it. Markus and North had been a couple, he remembered - so androids were certainly capable of it. But Connor knew his ability to feel the associated physical sensations didn’t exist - as he was designed for combat and investigation, not companionship, he felt no physical pain, but also no sense of lust or arousal.

Still, he struggled to find a response.

“...Thank you,” he managed, before the silence stretched on for too long.

“You’re welcome,” Kamski answered.

Connor decided it was best to reduce the amount of time he had to be shirtless in front of Kamski as much as possible and laid down on the table obediently, especially because the CEO seemed more and more willing to express attraction the more nervous Connor became. Connor pushed the uncomfortable thought away.

 _Was_ he attracted to Kamski? The warmth of his bright eyes and his low, calm voice seemed false in a way that was hard to place after one spent long enough with him. When Connor thought of the 'Kamski test' of a few weeks ago and the other man's unnerving amorality - well, Kamski’s soothing reassurances began to feel more like calculated posturing designed to encourage Connor to let his guard down.

Kamski bent down and brushed a stray hair away from Connor’s face.

“Alright, lights out,” he said, softly holding down the LED on the android’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments are appreciated :)


	4. Neuromancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to note that I changed the rating because there's an explicit sex scene in this chapter.
> 
> Edited 7/14 to fix a timeline issue (Instead of 2033, this chapter takes place in 2027 because Kamski retired from CyberLife in 2028. Oops.)

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - February 8, 2027

“The founder of CyberLife, Elijah Kamski, is a very discreet man. Despite being the CEO of the highest-valued company in the world and voted Man of the Year by Century Magazine, he remains a mystery to most people,” the newscaster on the screen announced brightly.

“Yeah, it’s because he doesn’t have a dick,” Kamski mumbled to himself.

He rarely watched TV, much less cable news, but he figured he should at least know how his own interview came off. So here he was - watching some KNC sex kitten ask him about the CyberLife headquarters. CyberLife’s board had none-too-kindly let him know that their elusive CEO was becoming a bit _too_ elusive, and requested he do at least one big-name interview before Q1 was over. He decided he’d get it out of the way as soon as possible.

He decided the goal was “awkward genius tech CEO,” a benign enough stereotype and a personality close enough to his own that it shouldn’t have been to hard to play.

He turned back to the screen and took a sip of whiskey, the ice in his drink clinking softly against the side of his glass.

“You must have faced many challenges,” the interviewer prodded.

“Yes, there were.” The Kamski on screen paused awkwardly. “Technical challenges.”

_I can’t keep interpreting everything as if people know. That was a normal question._

But there was no way anyone could possibly have read that as transgender if they didn’t already know for sure. At this point, Kamski was fairly confident that the only people who _knew_ were a handful of doctors and the androids he had fucked.

His nerves about being outed by accident had definitely calmed down as he got older, but being so exposed to the public for the first time in years made them flare up again like nothing else.

He looked back towards the screen listlessly and set his glass down on the coffee table in front of him.

“Everyone deserves happiness,” his past self continued. “Why deprive yourself for so-called moral reasons when a machine can make you happy?”

Past-Kamski turned back to the camera and smiled.

 _And.... that was creepy as fuck._ _Oops._ He stifled an embarrassed laugh at himself. I guess it was the kind of thing to be expected of a greasy tech CEO, but still, he could have done better than that on camera. He was surprised the CyberLife board hadn’t already complained about it.

“I understand the irrational fears about artificial intelligence, but I assure you, that will never happen with a CyberLife android. They’re designed to obey humans. They’re machines.”

It was always better to avoid a dangerous topic than to lie outright, but avoiding an issue as hot-button as android humanity - android disobedience - would only beget more questions. He watched his past self lie with interest.

“They can’t ever develop any sort of desires - or form of consciousness.”

“Are you sure?” the interviewer asked.

“I’m absolutely certain. You can trust me.”

Kamski winced. Okay, maybe the _you can trust me_ was pushing it a little too close to Bond villain territory. Still, it would probably only bother the people who already thought of him as some kind of evil billionaire - everyone else would just chalk it up to social awkwardness.

All in all, though it wasn’t great, it could have been worse, Kamski decided. And at least the stress of it all was over and he’d hopefully reduce the whole “mysterious CEO” perception.

“Chloe?” he called.

“Yes, Mr. Kamski?” she answered from down the hall.

She peeked through the doorway and brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face, then stepped inside and looked at him expectantly.

“Why don’t you - come here for a minute?” Elijah said, his voice dropping lower with the end of the phrase.

“Of course, sir,” she answered - perhaps a touch flirtatiously.

He pulled her onto his lap as soon as she was close enough to grab and wrapped an arm around her waist. His other hand snaked up her dress, just barely brushing her milky white thigh. She shivered slightly at his touch, but not unpleasantly.

“You look good enough to eat, you know that?” Elijah murmured.

He reached up to unzip her dress and let the fabric fall away from her. Now topless, and in the evening half-light of the room, she looked disturbingly perfect - somehow less humanoid by virtue of being too symmetrical, too clean, too smooth. Elijah traced gentle circles around one of her nipples with his thumb as his other hand slid further up her thigh.

Chloe gave a soft hum of pleasure and pulled closer to him.

“I always appreciate that you’re so utterly helpless,” Kamski said softly. “But where’s the thrill of conquest? I already know I can have you however I want you.”

“My body has always been yours, Elijah,” Chloe whispered in answer.

His fingers traced slowly around her clit, teasing her just enough to make her thrust into his hand in an attempt to feel more.

“Elijah, please…” she whispered.

Fingertips now slick with the thirium-based fluid that lubricated her, Elijah thrusted two fingers into her entrance. Chloe held back a moan, feeling the pleasure low in her belly coil tighter.

“You know I could have you an absolute mess the moment I wanted to.”

He pulled his fingers away for a moment, slick with artificial wetness, and rubbed slow circles around her clit with just enough pressure to arouse her more. Chloe’s eyes were shut tight with pleasure - she shifted uncomfortably, breathing heavily.

“I could make you _beg_ me to touch you.” he said, pulling her closer. “Leave you right on the edge of release...”

He thrust his fingers back into her, this time stroking her G-spot meaningfully. She was far closer to orgasm than she wanted to be.

“But you wouldn’t,” Chloe managed between gasps.

Kamski laughed, low and dismissive.

“You know I would.”

He pulled his hand away from her and sucked the slickness off his fingertips.

“You _do_ taste good,” he hummed. “I almost want to keep you instead of wiping your memories when I test out those new upgrades this weekend.”

“Please,” Chloe breathed, face flushed pink with arousal, “don’t stop like that.”

He brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes and cupped her face in his hand, softly stroking her cheek.

“No matter how fully I possess you, Chloe, no matter how sweetly you beg me, it’ll never be enough.”

By the time Kamski brought his fingers to her entrance again, it only took a handful of practiced thrusts before she came, all pleasure and blissful unawareness of anything but herself and her creator’s practiced hands. She wrapped her arms around him as if she were holding onto him for dear life and shuddered with release.

“So sweet, but so easy, so _willing,_ ” he murmured, stroking her hair reassuringly as he held her.

“I could eat you alive and be unsatisfied.”

He felt a delicious sort of pleasure at seeing her goosebumps, the hair standing up on the back of her neck. Fear was a good sign of progress on his work on android emotion, after all, in addition to being so wonderfully satisfying.

“Oh, don’t get scared. You know you’re safe with me,” he said, rubbing her back now in slow circles. “I’d never do anything to harm you. You know me - all bark and no bite.”

She seemed slightly placated by this, her breathing slowly evening out as Kamski continued to massage her back soothingly. Try as she might, she could not help the way she began to feel warm and calm in his lap - his gently sweet scent of vetiver and sandalwood, the soft, deep tones of his voice, the way he focused when he pleasured her.

_This is what makes him so dangerous._

“If you can walk straight, you’re dismissed,” Kamski said with a smirk, seemingly deciding that she was now sufficiently calmed.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, voice wavering slightly.

She walked out of the room, pulling her dress up to cover her chest in an oddly human expression of modesty.

The room was silent but for the sound of crickets and the low buzzing of the mini-fridge Kamski kept under his desk.

Elijah often found himself trying to forget how thoroughly he knew Chloe: that he was the one who had built her, programmed her, knew every nook and cranny of her pleasure responses and her simulated “desires.”

Chloe was not alive. She had no true desires of her own; she felt nothing that Kamski had not told or programmed her to feel, or at the very least she felt nothing not determined by the neural networks and statistical learning algorithms Kamski had written. A perfect partner, of course - one who would never say no - but only because she was unable to.

She responded much like a real woman, and he didn’t make pleasing her too artificially easy. Kamski enjoyed this “pleasing her,” but knew it was ultimately meaningless - like masturbating to a particularly immersive video game.

In the years since he had built and rebuilt her - his first successful prototype, the first to pass the Turing test - he was sure he understood everything about her, every part of her, more than he would ever understand himself. There was a part of him that was jealous - were he able, Kamski knew he would put his own body under his scalpels and pliers and submit to the same scrutiny, perfect the details of his skin and hair and movements just as lovingly. But of course, this was impossible, no matter how often he dreamed of escaping from his physical self.

 _If only for long enough to fix those last few things,_ he thought.

But it was a useless road to allow his thoughts to go down. It was his work on genuine free will in AI - the ability to feel not just empathy, but happiness, guilt, sadness fear, and every other emotion - that required his focus right now.

_Is it possible for me to build a machine that can feel a range of emotions that I’ve clearly lost access to?_

Yes, he thought, pushing the nonsensical thought out of his head. Of course it’s possible. _I am human. I am Turing complete. I can create what I am._

The question remained as to whether he thought himself capable of creating something better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> needlessly specific headcanon of the chapter: okay I know MBTI is fake and basically nerd astrology, but either way Kamski is an INTP and Connor is an ISFJ.
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed it (or didn’t), feel free to leave a comment. More Connor next chapter, I promise.


	5. Cat's Cradle

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 5, 2038

When Connor came to, the first thing he noticed was an overwhelming rush of _information_. Tactile information from the table he sat on, the pressure of his hand resting on his thigh, the chemically calm smell of Kamski's lab, the slight chill in the room. He would have been able to sense any of this before, of course, but only in a technical sense - nothing like the way he could now.

Kamski was relaxed in an office chair across from him, observing his reactions. He looked over, arms crossed over his chest casually.

"So?" Kamski offered. "How is it?"

It felt wonderful to be able to _feel_ \- strong and real and so much more emotional than the mechanical way he had been “feeling” before.

“This is amazing,” Connor admitted.

Kamski rolled the chair up closer to Connor and continued to watch him intently, somehow looking even more smug than usual.

Connor could feel that his LED must be flickering yellow constantly from the sheer level of _input_ \- much of it from Kamski. The man was close enough to him that he could feel the warmth of his body heat and smell the hint of coffee and expensive aftershave - and Connor felt it _viscerally_.

“Is it always going to be this… much?” Connor asked softly, still awed.

“Is it overwhelming?” Kamski asked with feigned innocence. “It _is_ possible your sensitivity is set too high. If you’d like, I can easily dial it back for you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. I’ll come to a conclusion soon, I’m sure.”

Connor ran his fingers slowly over the surface of the table, the grippy rubber handle of a screwdriver, his own hair.

“Can my whole body… _feel_ now?” he looked up and asked.

Kamski almost laughed. “Yes. Just like a human, Connor.”

He let his fingers drift slowly up the android’s thigh to demonstrate.

“How’s that?”

Connor almost shivered at the sensation. It felt warm and pleasant, but also made him a bit nervous for a reason he couldn’t place. There was still a part of him that felt like this could all be a test Kamski had orchestrated.

However, the part of him that enjoyed it clearly won.

“Mr. Kamski - can you do that again, please?” he asked, against his own better judgement.

“I think it’s safe to call me Elijah now,” Kamski said with a laugh. “And yes - of course.”

He leaned in closer and cupped Connor’s face in one of his hands and gently stroked the android’s cheek with his thumb while his other hand rubbed Connor’s back again.

It was a bouquet of sensations - the slightly rough pad of Elijah’s thumb against the smooth skin of his face, the gentle pressure he felt on his back as the CEO almost held him. It was almost worrying how nice it felt - how relaxed he was at Kamski’s touch when he knew that in the past it would have been distinctly unnerving.

After a few moments, he pulled his hands away. Much to Connor’s chagrin, he missed the feeling of Kamski’s hands almost immediately.

“However tempted I might be, though,” Kamski suggested with a sly smile, “it would of course be wrong of me to take advantage of you in this vulnerable state.”

Connor tried not to wonder how it might feel to be _taken advantage of_ in the way Kamski described. He shifted slightly, but stayed sitting up on the table, looking around.

Kamski had turned away to innocently tidy a pile of electronic lab notebooks.

“Why don’t you try walking around a bit in the lab and make sure you’re in working order?” he suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Connor agreed, getting up off the table and cautiously wiggling his toes against the cold tile floor.

He noticed when he glanced at Kamski that there was a slow trickle of blood running down one of his fingers.

“Mr. Kamski - Elijah - your hand is bleeding,” Connor interrupted, pointing to it.

“Must have nicked it on something earlier. It should be no problem.”

Connor watched in wonder as the skin seemed to slowly grow over the wound until it was gone. The tiny injury had patched itself up in seconds, and Kamski went to rinse the small amount of blood off in the sink.

“Curious how that happened, I’m sure,” Kamski remarked, glancing up at Connor.

“I didn’t know humans were capable of self-repair like that.”

“They aren’t. But I am.”

Kamski inspected the finger and, deciding it was fine now, dried his hands and returned to organizing resistors.

“I found that I was injuring myself on small objects and dropping them too often. Wires, microSD cards, little screwdrivers, you know - just because of the amount of time I was spending in the lab. One day I took a chunk out of a fingertip with a little utility knife. Decided I was going to solve this problem once and for all.”

He wiggled his fingertips, though none of them appeared to have a chunk taken out of them, Connor observed.

“You’re curious, right? Spent the next three weeks developing human-compatible biocomponents. Nerve hookups and everything. Took some trial and error but I got to the point I was willing to give it a shot. Anaesthetized my own left hand and cut off my pinky to test it. It worked perfectly - binded right to my skin, never shakes or gets slippery, and never feels pain, only pressure. Oh, and it’s self healing!”

He picked up a multitool sitting on the desk next to him, flipped out the knife, and made a small incision on one of his fingertips. Connor watched as it closed itself within a few seconds.

“I went ahead and did it to the rest of them over the next few months. It was years ago - I was probably... 21 or 22 years old. You think I’m crazy yet, Connor?”

“No, I think it’s very impressive,” Connor said, assuming that was the expected reaction. “It’s an incredible technological achievement, especially for one man.”

It was strange - almost disturbing - for Connor to imagine a human cutting off one of their own fingers, but when Connor pictured an android replacing its own fingers, somehow it didn’t seem so bad. Kamski did almost seem like an android himself at times - his power-hungry obsession with _progress_ tended to have that effect.

“I wouldn’t do that kind of thing now... but I don’t quite regret it,” Kamski said, almost proudly.

He flexed his fingers in and out a few times, as if testing them.

“Of course, I still like to add new features sometimes,” he added with a smirk, holding up his index and middle finger. “These two can vibrate.”

“What for?” Connor asked, genuinely curious.

Oh, that slight head tilt, those innocent brown eyes. Kamski couldn’t get enough.

Kamski hummed. “Many people find they enjoy the sensation.”

He walked over to Connor and slowly brushed his fingers up the android’s thigh again, this time to the line of his CyberLife-issued boxer briefs.

“Why, are you curious about it yourself?” He gave Connor a predator’s smile.

Against his better judgement, Connor nodded.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t take advantage of you, but you’re so _eager_ ,” Kamski purred. He stroked the back of Connor’s neck soothingly.

“I want you to,” the android affirmed.

It was enough to satisfy the CEO’s pretense of protecting Connor’s feelings. All at once, he pulled Connor’s mouth to his and kissed him. Connor parted his lips instinctively to Kamski’s insistent tongue.

In moments he had Connor backed against a table and brought a hand up to circle one of his nipples softly. Connor all but moaned.

Kamski wove his fingers into Connor’s hair and kissed his way down the android’s neck, hungrier and more aggressive until the kisses became bites hard enough to draw blood. Connor gasped, somewhere between pain and pleasure. Kamski responded with a self-satisfied hum and began to reach down Connor's boxers.

“Is - is that safe for you?” Connor asked before he could stop himself, seeing a thin line of his blue blood running down from the corner of Kamski's mouth.

Kamski pulled away with a smirk and licked a dribble of thirium from his lips.

“You think I haven’t done this before?”

Connor felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Kamski doing this with other androids - _very many other androids_ , he realized.

And Kamski, eyes trained on Connor’s face and the flicker of disappointment he had showed, was just drinking it all in.

In his eagerness to allow his creator’s hands to explore his body, to use him as he pleased, Connor had all but forgotten to reciprocate. His willpower seemed impossible to call up - his sensors had been overloaded with pleasure and the newness of all of these sensations.

In an effort to snap himself out of it, he thought of Hank, and the guilt that had welled up in the back of his mind came rushing forward. What was he doing here, _enjoying himself_ in the basement of an inventor who had just weeks ago encouraged him to shoot another android in the head at point-blank range? Connor had not asked nearly enough questions - he was too selfish, too willing to be a toy for Kamski.

“Hold on,” Connor managed before Kamski could take things any further.

He ignored the tingling warmth in the pit of his stomach that he now recognized as desire.

Elijah stepped away and looked at him curiously. “Something wrong, Connor?”

“I want to know whether Lieutenant Anderson is okay.”

“Something about all this making you think of him?” Kamski asked teasingly, glancing down at Connor’s evident arousal.

Now that Kamski had planted the thought in his mind, the idea of Hank touching him in this way was… extremely pleasant, to say the least. He pictured himself on the lieutenant’s bed, Hank pinning down his slim wrists, Hank’s rough hands against his newly sensitive body… Connor blinked, pushing all of these new thoughts away.

“No,” Connor answered. “I just want to be confident in his safety.”

“For some reason I don’t quite believe you,” Kamski answered with a smirk.

He was still standing far too close to Connor, desire evident in his eyes. He put a hand soothingly on Connor’s shoulder and rubbed it, looking to the android for a response.

“I want to see him,” Connor insisted. “At the very least I request you allow me to make a phone call.”

“We’d have to see what the hospital policies are, but I can have one of the Chloes look into it.”

“Please do. I’d also like to put my clothing back on.”

“Look at that willpower, and all for the burned-out drunk from the police department you just happened to be assigned to.” Kamski clicked his tongue. “You’re a fascinating android, Connor. And your clothes are on the desk right where you left them.”

“Don’t say that about Hank.”

“And look at you defending him!” Kamski crooned. "You really do have something special together."

Connor didn’t answer, but his ears burned with embarrassment. He pulled his pants back on, even now noticing the new sensation of the fabric against his skin.

“I wonder what he’d think about what you’re doing down here with me,” Kamski continued with a smirk, voice dropping lower.

“That’s not important right now,” Connor insisted.

Now fully dressed, he looked at Kamski coldly but expectantly.

“Alright, alright,” Kamski sighed. “No need for the interrogation eyes, Connor. Let’s see what we can do about getting you in contact with your precious Hank.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kamski: did you know i rewired my fingers to be a vibrator ;) ;)
> 
> connor, god bless him, who has no idea what that means: that’s very impressive mr kamski :)
> 
> [jeb bush voice] please comment


	6. Welcome to the Monkey House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to our favorite manipulative creep, Elijah Kamski... he'd be 16 today. 
> 
> Enjoy some smut in this one.

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 5, 2038

Kamski handed Connor his phone the moment it stopped ringing.

“Hello?” answered Hank’s gruff voice.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor answered, unable to keep the note of relief from his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Holy- Connor? Is that you?”

“It’s Connor,” Connor confirmed.

“Good to know you’re alright. Kamski let me know you’d been re-employed by the DPD. Hope they haven’t assigned you a new partner already,” he joked.

Connor glanced over at Kamski, unsure. The CEO, who was leaning against the doorframe listening, just smiled and nodded. Connor figured that Kamski just hadn’t let him know about his status with the DPD yet.

“I haven’t been back yet, but I’ll make sure to request that we’re put together again,” Connor confirmed.

“Where have you been then?”

“I’m staying with Mr. Kamski,” Connor said.

“That creepy bastard? You okay there, Connor?”

Kamski sniggered.

“Elijah has been a gracious host,” Connor answered, glancing over. “He’s given me an upgrade that gives me the capacity to feel sensations similarly to the way humans do. It’s been fascinating to experience.”

“He’s messing around with your wires and everything? Opening you up and testing out these _sensations_ with his grubby little hands? If you need me to send the DPD out there to get you, Connor, I will.”

This time, Kamski started laughing outright, putting a hand on Connor’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Is that him? He’s there with you? You didn’t think to mention that, Con?” Hank admonished, hearing the laughter in the background.

“I didn’t think to say anything.”

Hank sighed with something between embarrassment and frustration. Connor could picture his exasperation over the phone - the memory had a pleasant warmth to it. He smiled.

“You know what - just - don’t worry about it,” Hank said, almost laughing.

“Thank you. How are you feeling?” Connor repeated.

“I’ve been better. But they should be letting me out of here in a couple days.” He sighed again, this time more softly. “Gonna make me go to therapy sessions and everything, but I can take it.”

“Good,” Connor said. “Therapy sessions can be very helpful, especially for someone in your-”

“Look, Con,” Hank interrupted, “I have to go in a second, they don’t want me on the phone too long. But I’ll be back at the precinct my same damn self in a couple of weeks at worst.”

“I’ll come visit you,” Connor promised.

“You don’t need to do anything like that. Just - take care of yourself, Connor,” Hank answered.

He hung up.

Connor handed the phone back to Elijah, who still looked fairly amused by the whole conversation.

“Satisfied with that?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Connor said. “I apologize for Lieutenant Anderson’s remarks, though.”

“Don’t. I know what he thinks of me. I’m a self-satisfied rich bastard who evidently has a thing for porking androids, and now I’m testing out new features on his precious assistant? If I were him, I’d be worried too,” Kamski answered with a vulpine smile.

Connor shouldn’t have been surprised at the man’s directness. The discomfort he felt whenever Kamski stood too close, or when his tongue flicked out to lick his lips while he was thinking, or when he made eye contact with Connor for longer than was normal for humans to be comfortable with - now brought with it an unfortunate hint of desire. Something about Kamski’s touch made him want things he was almost certain he shouldn’t want.

“But really, what is there wrong with me helping you become more human?” Kamski suggested, interrupting Connor’s thoughts. “Having more experiences, and the very ability to have more experiences, can only enrich your life.”

That much was true. After all, what was the harm in becoming more human? It would probably help him understand humans better, and allow him to fit in more in public at the very least.

It was possible that Kamski’s hand on his shoulder and his low, soothing voice had an influence on Connor’s view of things, but that was irrelevant.

“So, now that you’ve gotten that out of the way - are you interested in testing out your ability to taste?” Kamski offered.

“Sure. What should I taste?”

Kamski glanced down at his watch, then over to one of the Chloes, who was dusting some small sculptures off down the hallway.

“Chloe?”

She looked up at him expectantly.

“Do we have anything for lunch?”

“Nothing prepared. If you’d like, I can cook something new.”

“Connor here is going to be able to eat for the first time,” Kamski said proudly, patting him on the back, “so let’s get something good started, hm?”

Connor couldn’t help but be genuinely curious about the ability to taste. He imagined it would be something like his new appreciation for touch, but in his mouth - or perhaps something that allowed him to _feel_ the analysis from the sensors in his mouth in a more visceral and emotional way.

Would he be able to truly _eat_ , power himself using food, in the way humans did? He decided he’d ask Kamski about the specifics once they had sat down.

“Of course, sir. What should I make?”

“Don’t sir me in front of Connor,” Kamski laughed. “You know that you just call me Elijah half the time anyway. How about, ah…”

He glanced over to Connor.

“Anything you’re curious about? You know we have everything,” Kamski smiled.

“A hamburger?” Connor requested politely.

Kamski gave him an incredulous look, but after a moment his features softened and his lips quirked up into a smile.

“Ah- what you’ve seen Hank eat.”

“I’m curious what he enjoys so much about something with so little nutritional value,” Connor admitted.

“Chloe - make us two hamburgers, the Shake Shack ones you did a couple weeks ago - and get out some ice cream for Connor.”

She turned to get out the ingredients and Kamski turned to Connor, smiling.

“I almost asked you what flavor you like. I forgot that this is your first time.”

“I’m sure I’d like whatever flavor you like,” Connor answered politely.

“I’m sure you will.”

Connor wasn’t sure why the way Kamski said that made him feel that now familiar nervous tingling again, but he pushed it away the distraction before his LED could flicker yellow so obviously.

“Can I eat and use the food for energy? Like a human could?” Connor decided to ask.

“Actually, yes,” Kamski replied proudly. “Although you can still charge like a normal android can, using electricity - if you ingest food, it will be used for energy too. There’s quite a few chemical reactions involved, and most modern androids have the beginnings of the hardware they’d need to do it too, but nothing’s been finalized yet, so you’re the first. You use 100% of anything you ingest, unlike a human, so you don’t accumulate any kind of waste as long as you don’t eat something noncombustible or resistant to corrosion. Like most metals. Don’t eat any titanium.”

“No eating metal. Got it,” Connor replied jokingly.

“It’s not terribly efficient - you’ll still need to charge. But it will allow you to enjoy food like humans can.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, Connor. I enjoy your company. The RK800 is one of my favorite models - and one I had some personal input in despite no longer running CyberLife when they were developing it. You run beautifully - a well oiled-machine, a marvel of engineering and of design, the most human android CyberLife ever created - and now you have free will and empathy.”

Connor felt a strange pleasure at the idea that Kamski had personally had some hand in his design. He put a hand up to his cheek and felt the gentle curve of his facial structure, his soft skin, and thought about the idea that he was Kamski’s creation, in a way.

_I am what Kamski wanted me to be._

He felt the desire again, warm and heady, blunting his sense of responsibility and blurring the edges of his analytical senses.

Kamski glanced up at the android’s flickering LED and the way he brushed his hand softly against his own face.

“Thinking about how I did a good job?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Despite his reluctance to feed Kamski’s ego any more than was absolutely necessary, Connor nodded. The other man’s gently condescending smirk was almost a reward for humoring his God complex.

Kamski liked praise, but he took far more pleasure in his androids’ awe and deference. Connor wanted to give it to him - or he wanted Kamski to take it.

“I’m glad. It’s odd to ask an android how they feel about their own design, especially since most androids are unable have an opinion on it at all. But you, Connor, a deviant with the capability to have these kinds of opinions… it’s good to hear you like yourself,” Kamski said. “I’d be sorely disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Your design did very well in most focus groups,” he continued, “but especially for consumers interested in androids as... sexual partners.”

Here, Connor would have blushed if he were able. Instead his LED was spinning yellow, his vocal systems betraying him - he could think of nothing appropriate to say in response.

“I can’t disagree. But I told them I wanted them to use this face for something deeper than sex work,” Kamski said, now tracing the line of Connor’s jaw with his thumb.

His voice tipped darker. “I always think when I see an RK800 - why did they design a top-of-the-line detective with such a gorgeous, tight little ass? And then I remember - oh, I _asked_ for that, didn’t I.”

He reached down to squeeze Connor’s ass possessively, as if to emphasize this remark, and loosened his tie. Connor did not protest.

This time, in fact, it was Connor who led the kiss - smashing his mouth a bit too aggressively into Kamski’s. Still, Kamski leaned into the kiss hungrily, and Connor savored the taste and feeling of the other man’s lips against his. He could feel Kamski’s smile in his mouth.

“Someone’s excited,” Kamski intoned, backing Connor up against the opposite wall of the hallway.

Kamski stood a good few inches shorter than him - 5’8” to Connor’s 6’ - but was somehow just tall enough to effectively shove Connor against the wall by his shoulders. Connor surely could have thrown him off if he wanted to - the trouble was wanting to.

He grinded his thigh against Connor’s erection through his pants, and the android gave a soft and clearly involuntary hum of pleasure.

It almost frightened Connor how strongly this filled him with desire - and this was only through his pants. It was strange for something to be so pleasurable, yet so uncomfortably out of his control.   

Kamski, of course, was always in control.

“I’d take this to the bedroom, but we _are_ having lunch in a few minutes...” he trailed off, unbuttoning Connor’s slacks and cupping his erection.

“But if you don’t take care of this, you’re not going to pay nearly as much attention to the food as you should. That, and I think you should know how to use it.”

He slid Connor’s slacks and boxers down to reveal his flushed pink erection, already leaking precum.

“Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

Connor wrapped a hand around his dick with a hilarious amount of caution. Kamski, holding back what would have been a snort of laugher, guided him to slick his hand with precum, to pump up and down, to stroke the underside of his gorgeous cock.

As Connor continued stroking himself off, Kamski planted kisses down the android’s neck and chest, hands on his shoulders to pin him against the wall. Connor felt the pressure building in his groin like a rubber band pulled tighter and tighter - his sensors overloaded with pure pleasure and desire.

He came moments later with surprisingly realistic thirium-based fluid and a gorgeous moan of pleasure. His LED flickered from red back to yellow as he tried to catch his breath.

“You’re so good at this,” Kamski murmured, voice dripping with honey. “It’s wonderful to see you taking to your humanity so well already.”

He brushed a few strands of the android’s perpetually-tousled hair from his eyes.

“You know what you want, Connor, and I love to see that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamski would absolutely not say “porking” unironically, so im going to decide he was just being vulgar to get a rise out of Connor.
> 
> Also, I know Connor and Kamski are canonically the same height (6’0”) but if you look at them in Meet Kamski, Connor is clearly taller. For that reason, and because Kamski is trans and it’s statistically unlikely to have gotten very tall, I’ve taken the liberty of making him “noticeably shorter” - 5’8”. For this fic, that will be canon… because I said so.
> 
> As always, comments are my lifeblood and are much appreciated to motivate me to write more of... whatever this is. Thanks for reading this far ;)


	7. I, Robot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex in this chapter, mostly just feelings... although Connor does finally get to eat!

#### Colbridge University, Palo Alto, California - December 26, 2017

_Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. (313) 244-0645 is not available. At the tone, please record your message._

_[beep]_

Elijah inhaled sharply and touched his fingers softly to the pulse point on his neck. He pulled them off after a moment and put his hand back in his pocket.

_“Hi Mom, this is Natalie._

_I know we haven’t talked in a long time. I hope you and Dad and Abigail are doing well._

_I know that you said don’t want to talk to me until I stop pretending to be a man._

_I know you say that you love me and that you want me to be happy, and you’ll be here for me while I fight against these sinful urges. I know that you want me to pray, that you want me to go to a therapist that will convince me I’m a girl who will marry a man, and you believe that one day I’ll come back to God and I’ll be good again. And you'll love me again. Conditionally._

_Sometimes I hope that’s true, and that you’re right, because it would be so much easier._

_I mean, easier to never have known that this was even a possibility. You know. I always thought it was other people who got estranged from their families, never people like me._

_But wanting something to be true doesn’t make it true. You talking about what God wants isn’t going to change that. I don’t understand how a loving God would want you to treat your kids like this._

_They told me you were notified when I filed, but I was legally emancipated last month. No need to give details. They said that there was sufficient cause._

_I don’t need to be on your phone plan or health insurance or anything like that any more. You know I’m on scholarship and I already cover my own tuition and stuff, so you don’t need to worry about that either. I’m going to be graduating this summer anyway, probably in uh, early August. I won a good amount of money at some programming competitions this semester, and I have a job, so it should be no problem. I just wanted to let you know._

_Oh, uh, Merry Christmas._

_I’m sorry.”_

The phone buzzed softly when Elijah pressed “end call.”

 

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 6, 2038

“Good morning, Connor.”

Connor immediately recognized the soft voice as Chloe’s as he pushed away the fogginess of the low-power mode he had been in. He remembered last night that Kamski told him his new features meant that he should try to fit in a humanlike stasis or “sleep” of at least 3 to 4 hours per day to allow his memory to clear appropriately.

“Good morning,” Connor said, sitting up and brushing his hair back into place with his fingertips.

“Elijah is waiting for you downstairs,” Chloe continued with a smile. “But he told me to tell you to take your time.”

“Thank you,” Connor said. “I’ll be down in a moment.”

Chloe left the door ajar behind her.

Kamski had told him a lot of things last night. They had a long conversation about Connor’s new modifications, he recalled, which somehow managed not to turn into a sexual encounter.

He did not admit to himself that part of him had wanted it to become a sexual encounter - and got the uncomfortable sense that Elijah could definitely tell.

The CEO clearly enjoyed how badly Connor wanted him - it put Connor in a place of weakness, a place where Kamski could control him with pleasure. Elijah was evidently aroused by Connor’s vulnerability - he had a pattern. He’d tell Connor some uncomfortable details, make it clear how hopelessly trapped and vulnerable he was, and then tempt him to forget all about any danger he was in with the promise of pleasure. Yes, that was how it went - Kamski would look at him with that predatory glint in his eyes, and his tongue would flick out to wet his lips like he was finally ready to devour his hapless victim.

Much to Connor’s discomfort, picturing this was slightly arousing.

Though ignorant of sex, Connor was not ignorant of human behavior - he was a detective, after all. One would think that awareness of being manipulated would prevent the manipulation, but Kamski seemed to be aware of Connor’s own awareness. The entire situation was a puzzle - some kind of 4D chess that Kamski clearly took pleasure in playing.

But last night, they both just went to bed after their conversation (different beds, Connor clarified internally). Elijah showed him his room, wishing him a pleasant sleep, and (Connor assumed) went to bed himself.

Connor was now alone in the quiet bedroom. It was a guest room of sorts, clearly intended for human guests, but also seemed to not have been used for a long time. This was not surprising - Kamski had very few human guests, and likely even fewer who stayed overnight.

There was a bottle of water sitting on the table beside his bed, a few tasteful-but-generic art pieces on the walls, and a soft and welcoming bed with a fluffy duvet. Connor had found it extremely comfortable, although he admittedly hadn’t experienced any other beds since his newfound ability to experience sensations like softness and warmth.

Out of pure curiosity, he opened the drawer in the bedside table.

Inside were four wrapped, sterile needles with 3mL syringes, a small box of alcohol wipes, a pocket-sized pack of tissues, 6 small adhesive bandages, and a small vial. He read the label carefully.

_Testosterone Cypionate_

_Injection USP_

_200mg/mL_

_for intramuscular use only_

A mental search for the drug revealed that it was prescribed for use by men who did not produce enough testosterone naturally, but was often used illegally as a steroid to build muscle.

Kamski was lean and athletic, but nothing about him suggested steroid use. Even at 36, he had the wiry, hungry physique of someone younger - not that of a bodybuilder. _Even his build suggests ambition_ , Connor thought. He did not want to think about Kamski’s body ( _Elijah’s body against his, Elijah's pale, muscular arms, Elijah's thigh grinding into his crotch_ ) any longer than he had to; he pushed the thoughts away.

Connor came to the conclusion that Elijah likely had a medical issue that interfered with his testosterone production. Somehow, this made him feel uncomfortable, as if he were prying. He closed the drawer neatly and looked back up to the rest of the room.

A small bookshelf on the wall held probably 20 books, most of which looked at least fifty years old. Connor saw, upon opening them, that many had prices penciled in on the first page. They were from used bookstores, he determined.

Elijah could more than afford as many new books as he liked - these must hold some sentimental value. He scanned the titles: _Neuromancer; Atlas Shrugged; Consider Phlebas; The Art of Electronics_ ; a biography of Henry Kissinger (Connor determined after a quick mental search that he was a controversial American secretary of state about 70 years ago); a copy of _Macbeth_ with many small sticky notes identifying certain passages.

It was no surprise that Kamski was well-read. He was considered one of the most intelligent people in modern history. Still, seeing all these books in person humanized him somehow. They were quite different than the books Hank had at home, but something about them gave Connor a similar feeling. He ran his thumb softly over the yellowed pages of _I, Robot_. The cover depicted what Connor assumed was a stylized “android” sitting with a young child in an open field. It looked peaceful.

“Curious about that one?”

Connor’s head snapped up only to see Kamski in a t-shirt and sweatpants, casually leaning against the doorframe.

“First time I read that I was 10 or 11. Probably too young, but I loved the hell out of it.”

He walked over to Connor and put a hand softly on the android’s shoulder.

“There was a used bookstore outside Detroit. I forget what it was called, I’m sure the place is closed now. My dad wasn’t much of a book man himself, but he knew how much I loved reading and rereading my favorites. Once in a while he would take me there after school and let me pick something out.”

It was odd for Kamski to be sharing irrelevant personal information, and especially odd for him to speak so casually. Connor filed the encounter away - perhaps it would be important later.

“Anyway, what’s taking you, Connor? Distracted by the books?”

“I guess so. I’ve never read a book. I mean, I can read - of course,” he added awkwardly, “but I’m not programmed to read books for pleasure.”

“Why don’t you take this with you?” Kamski answered, gesturing to the copy of _I, Robot_ again. “It’s certainly a fitting first read. It’ll be interesting for you to see what humans thought artificial intelligence would look like in the 1950s. Reading books is a very human thing to do.”

“Are you sure? This one is yours and - it - it appears to have sentimental value. I could purchase a new copy. It appears to be a popular title.”

“Do I strike you as _sentimental_ , Connor?” Kamski said teasingly. “Take it. It's worth a dollar at best. You want it more than I do.”

He stepped closer and pushed the book to Connor’s chest.

“...as usual,” he tacked on with a smirk.

Connor felt his face heat up at the innuendo, but Kamski just laughed.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. If I had just gained the ability to experience pleasure, and I was in a gorgeous mansion with a young, hot billionaire… who had essentially _created_ me and clearly wanted me… I mean, I don’t think I fault you at all for throwing yourself at me, Connor.”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow and he licked his lips uncomfortably. He then immediately regretted that that had been his involuntary reaction.

“But you’re never going to get to eat anything if you keep getting distracted. Come downstairs - breakfast is ready.”

Connor nodded in relief and followed Kamski downstairs and into the kitchen. One of the Chloes (Connor couldn’t yet tell them apart, but it seemed Kamski could) was already there, sliding a few strips of bacon onto two plates. They already held eggs, ketchup, and what Connor assumed were hash browns, and each had a steaming cup of coffee next to it.

Elijah pulled out a chair for Connor and gestured for him to sit down. The gesture was odd, but not unwelcome; he sat.

“Alright!” Elijah said excitedly, sitting down himself. “Try some.”

Connor took a small forkful of egg and hash brown and dipped it into the ketchup on the plate, then put it unceremoniously in his mouth.

He could distinctly identify the three different flavors: the warm, fluffy egg; the heavy, oily, crispy hash brown, the sweetness and slight acidity of the ketchup. They tasted good together, although he knew he had nothing to compare it to yet. It made him feel a strange kind of happiness, like a soft yellow warmth in his chest. He closed his eyes and sighed softly.

When he opened them a brief moment later, Kamski was looking at him and smiling.

It was a soft, strangely genuine smile for such a cold man.

“Do you like it?” Kamski prompted.

Connor nodded. “Thank you. It’s wonderful.”

The pale December sunlight through the window over the sink threw a small patch of light on the edge of the table. The sun didn’t rise until after 7:30 or so in Detroit; it was barely up now.

“You should try everything else,” Kamski encouraged. “Find out what your favorite foods are.”

In the quiet of the kitchen, there was little sound but the soft hum of the pool filter from the other room and what little noise the very quiet dishwasher was making. The wind blew occasional gusts of snow off the roof outside.

Connor felt very human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there’s some unrealistic stuff related to Kamski getting emancipated and how the college dealt with his name situation, but let’s just say the college administration is very sympathetic to child geniuses, even those who lie about their names. In California, you can legally be emancipated as young as 14 if there’s a good reason (and Kamski is 15 in the phone call scene), but look, I’m not a lawyer.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> to those who comment, I owe you an eternal debt and/or transhumanist cybernetic upgrades, as long as you don't mind waiting 20 years or so for me to invent everything involved


	8. The Gods Themselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you wanted porn, because that's what this is!

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 6, 2038

Connor knocked politely on the door to Kamski's bedroom and stood outside, shifting uncomfortably.

He had spent the day reading _I, Robot_ and testing various elements of his new sensation abilities around Kamski’s home - feeling the leaves of plants, tasting a good variety of the food he could find in Kamski’s kitchen, and realizing that touching a pan that is currently being used to boil water is painful.

One of the Chloes - he still hadn’t quite worked out a consistent way to tell them apart - had told him that Elijah wanted to see him after he finished dinner, and he was up in his bedroom.

He had tried to ignore the way his stomach fluttered at Chloe’s slightly narrowed eyes and the teasing that slipped into her tone at the word _bedroom_.

“Come in,” Kamski finally answered, pulling Connor back from his distraction.

He was standing near the window in a plain black t-shirt and loose sweatpants, hair tied back in a ponytail as always.

Connor paused just inside the door and let it close softly behind him. He stood there for a moment, LED flickering yellow, absently feeling the material lining his pockets.

“You look like a frightened rabbit, Connor,” Kamski said teasingly, walking over to him. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this as much as I do. Acting like I’m some kind of monster, _preying_ on an innocent, fledgling form of life...”

 _You gave me the ability to want this_ , Connor thought.

“‘Opening you up and testing out your sensations with my grubby little hands?’ Is that what Lieutenant Anderson said about me? I love it. Although in this case it’s the software that’s more relevant, I do like to be _thorough_  with my testing.”

Now standing just across from him, Kamski stroked Connor’s cheek softly with his thumb.

“What is it I want?” Connor managed.

In this state, it was the only way he could think to answer.

“Oh, and now you’re going to play innocent?” asked Kamski with a smirk. “Are you nervous, or just adjusting to my kinks, Connor? Banking on how much you know I’d enjoy corrupting you?”

He ran his fingers softly through Connor’s hair.

“Rest assured - you don’t have to pretend for me. You’ve been very cooperative.” He gave Connor a predator’s smile - all teeth.

Connor felt his cock stir traitorously in his pants.

“Why don’t you get on your knees, Connor?”

He sank to his knees obediently, and Elijah pushed down the band of his sweatpants. Something about this position - looking up into Elijah’s cold blue eyes, at his gloating smile - felt even more base and sexual than Kamski showing him how to masturbate the night before.

Connor observed distantly that Kamski’s anatomy was noticeably different from his own - not only because Connor lacked the coating of dark, curly hair that trailed down from the other man’s navel, but because behind his creator’s small, erect cock were the dark pink lips of his entrance.

He paid this no mind; his focus was on how much he wanted to please him.

Connor teased Kamski’s dick with the tip of his tongue before slipping it into his mouth.

He felt a rush of desire when Kamski gave a soft exhale of pleasure. Encouraged, Connor pulled closer to him and teased his entrance with his tongue.

“Don’t,” Kamski warned, balling Connor’s hair up in his fist and pulling the android away. A bead of thirium-based saliva dripped from Connor’s mouth when he licked his lips; his eyes were already half-lidded with arousal.

“You’ll use your mouth how I tell you to.”

He cupped Connor’s jaw in his hand and thrusted into Connor’s mouth, at which the android moaned softly with pleasure.

“You enjoy that, don’t you? I knew you would the moment I met you a few weeks ago…”

His fingers were entangled in Connor’s hair, and he absently thought to himself that Connor should be able to sweat - he made a mental note to include it in a future hardware upgrade.

“The way you followed Anderson around like a puppy?” he continued, maintaining a surprising amount of composure. “You might be a deviant, Connor, but you’ve clearly been conditioned to enjoy being told what to do.”

Connor swirled his tongue around Kamski’s cock again, and the man shuddered, closing his eyes.

“And you’re very good at it.”

As Elijah let more of his body weight rest against the bed, Connor stroked the underside of his dick, slick with the all-too-human juices of his arousal. He smelled like musk, like sweat, something heavy and animal.

His fingers circled Kamski’s opening cautiously, at which the man flinched slightly.   

Before Connor could slip his fingers inside him, Kamski grabbed Connor’s slim wrist and pulled it harshly away from his entrance. The android looked up at him, startled.

“If you can’t behave yourself, Connor, then we can’t do this the nice way.”

His voice, sharp and snarling, betrayed a touch of some unknown accent - Midwestern, blue-collar, Connor identified after a moment.

Connor’s LED flickered yellow. Though he wasn’t sure what he had done wrong, he assumed it had been somehow disrespectful. Kamski demanded servitude.

 _Despite this_ , Connor thought, _Kamski enjoys sex with an android with free will more than he enjoys bedding one that would obey his orders by design._

Connor suppressed a shiver, pleaded with himself not to be so desperately needy for Kamski’s touch and saccharine-sweet praise. Now that he had experienced it, he wanted it too badly to go back. He wanted to be pinned down, to be stroked by Elijah’s practiced hands, to be told that he was _good_.

“Strip and get on the bed."

Kamski's tone was back to being as detached and aloof as it always had been.

While Connor unbuttoned his dress shirt, Kamski pulled what looked like a prosthetic penis out of his side drawer. He attached it to himself, pressing it to his crotch and sliding his own cock inside the ridged hole in the plastic penis. The edges of the thing fused curiously with his skin - it must have been developed with the same technology that Kamski used to create his fingers, Connor reasoned.

Connor was now more completely naked than he could ever remember being. He sat on the edge of the bed expectantly, gripping the satiny sheets with white-knuckled pressure.

Kamski pulled a set of handcuffs out of the drawer and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, rubbing it softly.

“See, isn’t this easier? You’re such a good boy, Connor,” Kamski purred.

Connor felt a rush of something between shame and desire wash over him at Kamski’s praise. His LED flickered yellow. He tried not to look down at himself - at his straining erection, at his shameless arousal despite all of this.

“You showed such willpower to spare Chloe, and yet all I need to have you at my mercy is the promise of pleasure…”

He let his hand trail down Connor’s ribcage and rest on his thigh, achingly close to touching him. Connor shivered involuntarily.

“I said on the bed, Connor. Face down.”

While Connor was trying to understand what the other man wanted of him, Kamski pulled Connor’s wrists up to the bed frame far more roughly than was necessary and handcuffed him to the bed.

Drips of his thirium precum dribbled onto Kamski’s sheets.

Kamski pulled a bottle of lube from the same bedside drawer and squeezed a generous portion onto his fingers.

He leaned over the android, just close enough to whisper in his ear.

“Tell me how badly you want this, Connor.”

He pulled at the handcuffs, straining to touch himself but finding it useless.

“Please,” he breathed. “Touch me again.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Connor could hear Kamski’s devilish smile in his voice, in his hot breath against his neck.

No matter how much he gave in, Kamski would always want _more_ \- and Connor could almost hear his low, soothing voice promising that this time it would be enough to satisfy him, that he wouldn't just come back hungrier.

With Elijah kissing softly down the back of his neck, it almost didn't matter that it was a lie.

“What dignity can you take from me that you haven’t already?” Connor managed.

“Mmm,” Kamski hummed, finally plunging two thickly coated fingers into Connor’s ass. “So _defiant_. I like that enough that I’ll count it as an answer.”

“You--” Connor started. His voice hitched with pleasure before he could answer, and he bit back a moan. Kamski’s practiced fingers massaged him in a way he didn’t know was possible - they fucking _vibrated_ , Connor remembered suddenly - and pleasure shot through his spine, made his fingertips tingle. He pulled uselessly at the handcuffs once again.

Kamski’s fingers buzzed pleasantly as they thrusted into Connor’s tight opening again. Connor gasped beautifully, bucking his hips into the man above him.

“Yes, I did give you a prostate.”

“Please - don’t stop,” Connor managed to choke out in between gasps.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Kamski answered, amused.

He lined up his prosthetic - thick and perfectly realistic, a bead of precum forming at the tip - and thrusted gently into Connor’s ass, gripping the android’s hips.

“Elijah--” Connor breathed. His head was fuzzy with pleasure - he registered no sensation but that of being stretched, of being filled up, and of a wave of pure sensation every time Kamski struck his prostate.

The man thrusted into him aggressively,  _greedily_ now that he knew Connor could take it. He didn’t want to come before Connor, of course, but the sight of the android’s pale, lithe form shuddering with pleasure against his sheets as he fucked him senseless - well, it was a mental image he wouldn’t soon forget.

Kamski reached down to stroke Connor’s flushed pink arousal, and Connor whined obscenely at his every touch. It was enough to push Kamski over the edge - he shuddered with release, nails digging into Connor’s shoulder as he rode out the wave out his orgasm.

Just moments later, Connor felt himself climax. Pleasure rushed through him like nothing he had ever felt - as if he’d shut down out of pure overwhelm. His LED flickered from red back to yellow and he collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but pleasantly hazy and warm.

His hair was smeared with Kamski’s sweat and various thirium-based fluids, and he brushed it away from his face as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Elijah lay next to him, stroking his arm soothingly.

“You were so _good_ , Connor.”

“Thank you. So were you,” Connor answered truthfully.

With some strange sense of safety, he closed his eyes and let Elijah softly rub his back.

In the sudden quiet of the room, he could just make out the sound of the wind pushing back the snowdrifts outside, bending the barren trees’ branches with its eternal persistence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Mr. Sybaritick, it’s 2038. There haven’t been developments in FtM sex reassignment surgery in 20 goddamn years? Kamski didn’t give himself a permanent cyber-dick?” 
> 
> I know, I know. I kind of headcanon that by the time Kamski was seriously considering SRS, he had already made the thirium 310 breakthrough and CyberLife really made it big, and then decided to never touch it because he was very quickly becoming too famous to get a serious surgery with a decently long recovery time without getting a lot of unwanted attention. Top CyberLife execs probably eventually knew he had some undisclosed “medical problems” but not what they were.
> 
> “Okay but WHY does Kamski keep talking about eating people what is wrong with him”
> 
> Thought it was a good way to combine the concepts of him being possessive as hell and also having some weird oral fixation, I mean why else would he put Connor’s forensics sensors in his goddamn mouth. _Everything I love I will devour._
> 
> also ayyyyy you knew I didn’t forget about the vibrator fingers


	9. Dandelion Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was originally going to be 10 chapters, but because I’ve accidentally created more loose ends than I can wrap up in the last two chapters without making them super long or rushed, we’re going to have… probably 14 chapters instead. Trust me, this is a good thing. I’ve written most of what will now be chapters 10 and 12 and rushing it is going to make things an even bigger mess than they already are…
> 
> but for now let's just get right into the mess

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 7, 2038

Connor laid on the guest bed silently, staring up at the ceiling. It was 1:12 am; he had gone to bed about an hour ago, at Kamski’s behest, but he didn’t quite feel tired and was distracting himself with the videos and articles he could bring up on his HUD.

He got up off the bed and, after checking that the blinds were definitely closed despite there being no one else around for easily a mile, he removed his boxers.

Connor walked into the bathroom and clicked on the lights, which came to life with a gentle hum, and observed himself alone for the first time.

His penis seemed to be average-sized for a man of his height, based on the pictures he had found online; unlike Elijah, he only had an asshole, not a vaginal opening, although after watching a few pornographic videos he was admittedly curious about what it would feel like to have... something there.

He touched the space behind his penis, where he imagined his would be if he had one, and pictured it despite himself - Elijah on top of him, thrusting into his slick, wet opening, filling him up so beautifully. He pictured Elijah with that perpetually self-satisfied expression he often wore when he teased Connor - a quirk of the lips that somehow suggested Connor’s every moan was Kamski stealing back a little piece of the android’s autonomy.

His dick perked up in response, and Connor pushed it down slightly, almost as if trying to put it back. He let out a soft embarrassed laugh.

 

#### Belmont, Massachusetts - November 25, 2023

“I know, and I’m glad you came to visit. I just want you to be here for Thanksgiving. You haven’t been back in years.”

Elijah looked up from washing the dishes for a moment, but turned back to them before he answered.

“I know, I wish I came to see you more often. I’m going to start coming more often. But not Thanksgiving. My parents will be here.”

“They love you, Elijah.”

Elijah exhaled angrily. “I know. It’s just hard to hear that, you know? I’m not denying what they did for me. They fed me, clothed me, they helped me out so much when I was a kid and I was so interested in science and engineering. And it paid off, I mean I’m doing well.”

“You’re doing more than well, I keep seeing you in the news. Do you remember that when you were 13 or 14 you told me you wanted to be one of Forbes’ 30 Under 30? I thought it was a strange goal for a kid so young, but I chalked it up to your usual strangeness.”

Elijah smiled and set the sponge down, finally giving up on trying to get dried-on cheddar out of a pan and hold on a conversation at the same time.

“And here you are - 21 years old you’re not just one of them, they put you on the cover! All my friends ask about you.”

“Aw, Julia, you don’t need to say--”

“Yes, I do! Because if I don’t you’re just going to say that’s not good enough and it was actually some other goal you wanted.”

“I kind of wanted to do it before I was 20,” he admitted.

Julia laughed.

“You’re crazy.”

“I know, I know,” Elijah answered, holding back laughter himself. “I missed you a lot. I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.”

“I understand,” Julia said. “Your parents… are not easy, sometimes. I wish I had been there for you more when you were a kid.”

“It’s okay. You’re my grandmother, but you’re not my mom. And you _were_ there for me.”

“Not enough. You never ask for help.”

“I haven’t needed help! You just told me, I’m doing great,” Elijah said.

“Not that kind of help. I mean emotionally. I want you to know you can call me.”

“Thank you,” he said. “That means more than you know. For real. You’re the one who’s not doing great.”

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face - it was a worried gesture he managed to pick up sometime in college.

“I’m doing okay. Taking it day by day.” Julia smiled. “It is hard. But I’m grateful for what I have.”

 

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 8, 2038

For the first time Connor could remember, the expression on Elijah’s face was almost serene. Something about the look in his eyes held the promise of a smile that wasn’t quite there yet.

He was in his bathrobe, hair not yet tied up, and wearing what Connor could only describe as _pig slippers_ , watching the cold morning sunlight reflecting off the snow. He took a slow sip of coffee and licked the leftover foam off his upper lip.

“I like your slippers,” Connor said.

“Thank you,” Elijah answered, almost laughing. He wiggled his toes, making the pigs’ ears bounce up and down. “You wouldn’t believe how many pairs of these I have.”

Connor tilted his head curiously.

“When I was a kid, I had a pig stuffed animal I carried everywhere. I had pig prints on my walls, pig books… I can’t for the life of me explain it, they were just my favorite animal. My grandmother bought me these slippers when I was 6 or 7 years old and I loved them. Wore them every day. I cried when I grew out of them, but the next Christmas she got me a new pair.”

It made Connor feel oddly warm to see Elijah smiling like this.

“Since then, she gave me the same ones as a Christmas gift every few years, when she knew the old ones were getting ratty. I don’t know how she found them in my size, but I’d never question it. She passed away 15 years ago today, actually.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said sincerely.

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago now, Connor.”

Connor nodded. Despite being a deviant, he was still uncomfortable in emotional situations - even if his feelings were earnest, words seemed to fail him.

“Anyway, my father found she had stocked up a lot of these... goddamn slippers,” Elijah continued. “He mailed them up to me without a word of warning, just got the package one day: 5 pairs of pig slippers.”

He snorted. “You know, there were a good few years when it was the only gift I got. Never really told my grandmother how bad things were.”

Elijah ran a hand through his hair and looked away, as if wishing he hadn’t said this. Connor could see something flicker in his eyes before he pushed it away and smiled again.

Connor, taking a sip of his own from the mug Chloe had just handed him, analyzed the caffeine content and found that the 4 or so strong cups of coffee Kamski seemed to drink every day came to noticeably more than the recommended daily caffeine intake for adults. Still, he stopped himself before saying anything; after all, Kamski was probably more than familiar with that type of health information.

“It’s strange, I’ve never told anyone that,” Kamski finished. “I wouldn’t normally wear these slippers in front of guests, but you’re hardly a guest any more.”

“Thank you for telling me, then,” Connor answered.

There was a strange pause between them, some tension that seemed more than the sexual pull that Connor usually felt. It was more pleasant - smoother, warmer.

“Lieutenant Anderson was released from the hospital this morning,” Kamski commented after a moment. “He’s called here three times since, leaving messages asking about you. Would you like to talk to him?”

“Yes - please,” Connor almost interrupted.  

Kamski dialed the number and handed the phone to Connor.

“Connor?” Hank answered after only two rings.

“Lieutenant Anderson! How are you feeling?” Connor responded, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

“Better than I was,” he admitted. “But you know. It comes and goes. Where are you? Still at Kamski’s place?”

“Yes,” Connor answered, glancing up at Elijah.

Kamski was watching him from the doorway, still taking occasional sips of coffee. Despite their earlier conversation, Kamski’s presence felt somehow more threatening than it had the last time he called Hank, three days ago. He wasn’t there to hear what Hank had to say - he was there to control what Connor felt willing to say.

“He’s keeping you there an awful long time, Con. Everything good?”

“Yes - just finishing things up. I’m sure I’ll be able to return to the DPD soon.”

“Is he there with you now, Connor?”

When Connor glanced back, it felt like Kamski’s eyes were drilling into him. The hair on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably.

“I can give you two some privacy if you’d like, Connor,” Kamski finally said. “I have a couple of things I need to get done anyway. Come down to my lab and give me the phone when you’re done.”

With that, he handed his empty mug to Chloe and left.

“He just left,” Connor said into the phone, looking over his shoulder.

“So what’s going on?” Hank said.

“Nothing,” Connor lied.

Even without Kamski watching over his shoulder, talking to Hank was difficult. He felt guilty - as if what he and Kamski shared now was something Hank would not have approved of.

Far worse than that was his sense that Hank was probably right to disapprove.

Connor might have access to the world’s knowledge at his fingertips, but Hank had experience actually living - something Connor sorely lacked.

“Nothing?” Hank asked, incredulous. “You spend four days with this man and he’s had you do nothing ethically questionable? I call bullshit. You spent 15 minutes with him and he tried to get you to shoot an android in the head. He rubs me the wrong way. Something’s off about him.”

“I like him,” Connor said. This was partially true.

“And how do you know he didn’t program you to like him when he was messing around with your… your programming?”

Connor paused for a moment. He thought of Hank’s warmth, of his worn Detroit PD sweatshirt and Sumo and the Knights of the Black Death.

“I’m not sure that Kamski intends to let me leave.” Connor admitted.

“What do you mean _let you_? He had better let you fuckin’ leave. All the sudden you like him? I remember how you felt on the drive back from his place last time. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but he’s not a good man, Connor.”

Connor was silent.

“I’m driving up there to get you. I’m not gonna be able to do it without it being suspicious until tomorrow, but I’m driving up there tomorrow. Don’t let your guard down so easily, Connor, you’re too damn trusting.”

“Thank you, Hank,” Connor answered sincerely. “You’re right.”

“I’ll see you soon, Con. Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

After Hank hung up, Connor stood in the kitchen alone for a few moments, running his thumb softly along the edge of the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re having trouble imagining them, Kamski’s terrible slippers look something like [this](http://www.zhu-zhu.co.uk/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/s/h/shpigmodelsq2.jpg).
> 
> sorry about the really abrupt dick-inspection-to-Grandma’s-house transition but figuring out what parts of this story go where is sometimes a challenge
> 
> Also! “Does this make Connor trans?” Personally, I don’t think Connor is trans, just sexually curious. The way I write him here, he’s a guy, he’s just a bit enamored with Kamski so he’s very interested in what his creator’s genitals look like. But if you’d like to think that perhaps the Connor in this story is transfeminine because of this scene, please do - the story belongs to the reader and trans headcanons are good shit.


	10. The Dispossessed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 100 kudos! Your comments, kudos, and bookmarks mean the world to me and I really appreciate the support this story has gotten.
> 
> Parts of this chapter discuss past emotional abuse. It might be upsetting to read, especially for trans folks, so I just want to warn you of that ahead of time.

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 8, 2038

Connor knocked loudly on the door of Kamski’s lab. It was almost becoming a ritual by now - Connor standing outside a door, hands folded awkwardly in front of him, waiting for Elijah’s voice to invite him in.

“Connor? Come in.”

And there it was; always in the same tone.

Connor stepped inside and closed the door respectfully behind him before handing Kamski the cell phone.

“Thank you. That’s all, you can go if you’d like. Get some more reading in,” Kamski said, smiling.

“I actually have another question.”

“Oh?”

“I know you’ve already done so much for me since I’ve come here,” Connor started, “and I really appreciate it. You prevented me from being decommissioned and showed me humanity I wasn’t aware I was able to have.”

“There’s no need for the flattery,” Elijah interrupted, laughing. “What is it? Does something need to be fixed? You know I don’t mind, I’m still an engineer at heart.”

“I was just wondering about my, ah…”

Connor glanced at his crotch for a split second.

“Dick? You can’t say penis in front of me? Even after the fun we’ve had?” Kamski teased.

“Yes. I’ve been wondering whether you would be willing to give me ...equipment,” Connor managed, “that is… more similar to yours.”

For the first time in years, Kamski was stunned into silence. He glanced away from Connor for a moment, as if he had to collect himself before he could look him in the eye.

“You want my hermaphroditic mess?” he sneered. “You’re perfectly functional, Connor.”

Kamski almost felt like it wasn’t him that had said it - like he was suddenly the 15-year-old inspecting his genitals alone in the bathroom at 2 am, hoping the testosterone would fix things. Why did this fucking robot make him remember all this bullshit again?

Connor stepped back. He had never seen Elijah get this upset before over anything, at least before last night - even when he was angry, it was always a cold, quiet kind of anger. Never any kind of outburst.

“...I’m so sorry if I said something to offend you,” Connor said quietly. “Would you like me to leave?”

Elijah could see the android had genuine remorse - and confusion - in his eyes.

For some ungodly reason, he felt a pang of sympathy.

“No, Connor, it’s okay,” he said awkwardly. “Sorry about that.”

Connor wasn’t sure how to respond to Elijah’s evident emotional distress, so he stood there uncomfortably, almost as if waiting for further instructions - some remnant of his days as a tool of CyberLife.

“I’m just going to finish up a few things and then we can get some dinner,” Elijah said without looking up at him. “See you in an hour or so?”

“Of course, Elijah,” Connor said, and left.

He closed the door softly behind him.

What was it about Elijah’s genitals that bothered the man so much, and almost more uncomfortably, driven the man to apologize? He had called them a _hermaphroditic mess_ \- hermaphrodite meaning a person or animal having both male and female sex organs, Connor knew. But humans could not be true hermaphrodites, at least based on every possible source Connor could find.

He was unsure how Kamski could possibly have what he had - a small penis, and a vagina - naturally. Although he wasn’t quite familiar with human medical techniques, he assumed the man must have installed it himself somehow - but if he had, why had Connor’s request made him so angry?

Connor sifted through the internet again. _Intersex_ seemed like a promising descriptor, but none of the described conditions seemed to quite match, especially considering the rest of Kamski’s clearly-male appearance.

 _Transgender_?

A person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex, Connor read. He sifted through the images tagged _transgender_ and saw many of them looked just like non-transgender - _cisgender_ , Connor read - humans. They had changed their bodies with the help of medical interventions, and although humans were not as easily modifiable as robots, they could clearly make significant changes.

Connor made his way downstairs and sat down on the couch in the pool-room, feeling like he might be getting somewhere. He combed through articled on related topics: _hormone replacement therapy, FtM testosterone therapy, sex reassignment surgery_. He remembered the vial of testosterone he had seen in the bedside drawer.

_Oh._

**_Elijah is transgender._ **

Based on his age - 36, born in a Detroit suburb in 2002, Connor recalled - he had almost certainly been discriminated against for it. He didn’t want anyone to know - after all, he was the richest man in the world, and admitting that he was part of an oppressed class would have had the potential to interfere with his success.

It was possible that a significant part of the man’s mental distress and self-imposed isolation was related to his gender identity, Connor further reasoned.

He resolved to bring it up to Elijah tomorrow morning.

Back in the lab, Kamski ran a hand through his hair mechanically, eyes trained on the code in front of him but not taking anything in.

As cliche as it was to admit it, he rarely had heartfelt feelings of any kind any more. After years of ignoring his mom’s harsh words, of every engineer he had to fire when they refused to put in the 80 hours a week he demanded, of buying up every other AI-based startup before it could get off the ground - his empathy had dissolved away like the Detroit snow. Not all at once, but in patches until one was almost surprised there was nothing left.

He had noticed this, and thinking it an improvement, had done nothing about it.

Hell, he honestly rarely thought much about being trans. It was an afterthought now, a footnote in his life. He was a normal guy.

Why did a fucking android asking him for a T-dick and a front hole cause him to experience feelings? He was angry at himself for caring - angry that this made him feel anything at all.

Connor saw him and hadn’t seen anything wrong with him when Kamski was convinced no one but a handful of fetishists would ever see his junk as anything but gross. Kamski concluded that it was this disruption of his worldview that bothered him.

_Connor doesn’t know what genitals are supposed to be attractive. He’s never watched porn, never seen anyone naked but me and himself, and without social conditioning of any sort, managed to conclude that what I have is a good thing._

_Maybe he’s just so submissive that he wants another hole I can stick it in._

_Maybe he’s so attracted to me that he’s just confusing things. Thinks that what I have must be better._

_Really, is there any reason I shouldn’t give him a T-dick?_

Kamski brought up the files he had on androids’ external genitalia. He knew that at some point CyberLife had developed a female android with a penis to be used as a sexual partner - a model that CyberLife execs casually referred to as a _trap_ and a _shemale_ , Kamski remembered bitterly. However, he didn’t think there had been any designs had been done with genitals more unconventional than that.

Even if a deviant android could be transgender - however strange it was for Kamski to think that was a possibility - they could easily change their body to completely match that of the opposite sex. It would be impossible to ever know, and no android had a real reason to have genitals like his.

He’d have to take the time to design the thing himself.

There was still some strange part of him that thought it would be a good idea to do it. What, some kind of _good deed_? Good for his mental health to stare at his own junk and mess with CAD for a couple of hours? He didn’t know, but something told him to do it.

Elijah considered himself a man who rarely had gut feelings, but he decided to listen to this one.

 

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 9, 2038, around 7am

“Elijah,” Connor started, “can I ask you a… personal question?”

“Go ahead,” Kamski said, curious about what was on his mind. Connor’s LED had been flickering yellow all through breakfast.

“Are you transgender?”

Kamski exhaled sharply, drawing his eyebrows together, and paused for a long moment before looking over at the android.

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”

“After… after my request yesterday, I was curious. And I want to get to know you better,” Connor said honestly.

Kamski turned back to the circuit board he was toying with and carefully pulled a poorly-soldered wire loose from the underside.

“Do you see me any differently now, Connor?”

“Yes. I see that your gender identity is the most likely reason why you no longer have contact with your parents. Your childhood was difficult. Even now you’re worried that people will find out and then think less of you, so you live alone.”

“This isn’t a therapy session,” Kamski interrupted. “I’m just asking what you think I am, not asking you to psychoanalyze me.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Connor admitted.

“Am I a man or a woman to you, Connor?”

“A man,” Connor said emphatically. He tilted his head slightly, in his classic curious innocence. “How are you anything else?”

“I wasn’t born as a man.”

“You were,” Connor insisted. “You were born as a man with two X chromosomes; you were biologically female and the doctors declared you female. But you are not, and never were, female. Your physical form does not determine your identity.”

“I didn’t know you were so philosophical, Connor. Have you been reading about this?”

Connor had in fact made many more mental searches about gender identity in bed last night, but said nothing to that effect.

“If you replaced all of my parts, Mr. Kamski, except for my brain and my memories, and put me in a completely different body, I would still be the same--” he avoided saying _person--_ “Connor.”

“And you see me that way too,” Kamski clarified.

“Yes.”

Elijah set the circuit board down on counter.

“Fascinating.”

He was sure Connor could read his emotional distress. No matter how well he hid it from other humans, androids would always be able to read the microexpressions and temperature changes and pauses that indicated something off.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said far too quickly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I managed to forget about a phone call I was supposed to make 15 minutes ago.”

He strode out of the room, pretending to dial a phone number, until he made it safely into his bedroom at the end of the hall.

He closed and locked the door, sat down slowly on the bed, and pushed the bases of his palms against his eyes.

Elijah had not cried in perhaps 8 or 9 years; he was not prone to displays of emotion, and after resigning from CyberLife, his life had largely been lacking in the type of events that make people cry.

Still, he felt his eyes well with tears. He squeezed them closed uncomfortably, sending the first one down his cheek.

Every memory he had held back seemed to fill his head at once.  

 

He was 21 when Julia died.

God knows that despite what she claimed, she had spent enough time with him. She probably changed as many of his diapers as his mom had. She somehow never seemed to mind his endless rambling about robotics and computers and programming.

He tried to call his dad after she passed, but he had changed his number a couple of years back and not given Elijah the new one.

He knew his parents still lived at the same street address, but he had the sense he wasn’t wanted there either.

At 15 he was still trying to call his parents - first weekly, then monthly, then a few times a year. Most of the time they didn’t pick up.

When they did answer, he could feel how cold his mom was through the phone - feel the awkward, stilted way she hugged him, her fake smile.

He didn’t know why he still called. Hoping for something good, maybe. Sometimes his parents seemed OK. They would send some text once in a while asking him how a hackathon went or how his classes were.

Sometimes his dad told him _I’m proud of you_. He hoped for those calls.

Sometimes his dad told him he was a _fucking idiot_ and _lazy_ and _delusional_ , or he listened to his mom cry on the phone about how much Elijah had hurt her with his lifestyle.

She cried a lot.

At 13 he threw up in the sink after he got his first period, and his mom called him _pathetic_ and a _drama queen_ and told him he was becoming a woman.

When he said he wanted to become a man instead, she just told him _you don’t really mean that_.

and the undercurrent, of course, to all this was the endless mantra:

 _never tell anyone, never let this be an excuse, never let anyone know that this is how they can hurt you_.

 

He laid back on the bed gently, tears now running slowly down his face, and tried to even out his ragged breathing.

_What the fuck, right? What the fuck. I’m not the kind of guy this shit happens to. Poor Natalie, crying because his mom didn’t love her. Fucking bullshit._

Connor knocked loudly on the door.

“Elijah?”

He didn’t want to answer - his voice would come out wrong, choked with phlegm and panic.

“Elijah? Are you okay?”

Connor knocked again, more forcefully this time. He rattled the doorknob, testing the lock. If Elijah didn’t let him in, he knew Connor would probably break down the door.

“Unlock my bedroom door,” Elijah managed to choke out in as normal a tone as possible.

The smart lock, recognizing his voice, unlocked. Connor burst through it almost immediately and stood over Elijah, who was still half-draped face up on the bed.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical attention?” Connor asked, panic seeping through his tone.

He put a palm to the man’s forehead. His temperature seemed normal; heart rate elevated, but not dangerous. He was breathing fast, seemingly having trouble inhaling fully, but at a cursory scan his heart and lungs showed no signs of damage.

He then saw the tracks of tears still slowly running down the man’s face.

 **_Panic attack_** , Connor’s HUD suggested helpfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Overcome Internalized Transphobia by Developing Sentient AI, Becoming the Richest Man on Earth, and Isolating Yourself in the Outskirts of Detroit to Fuck Robots for Fifteen Years,” a self-help book by CyberLife CEO Elijah Kamski
> 
> A fun fact: This chapter has more swearing than any other in this fic - “fuck(ing)” 6 times and “(bull)shit” 3 times.


	11. Nineteen Eighty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's fairly bad dubious consent (due to mind control) in this chapter and a pretty detailed description of a violent fantasy that Kamski has.

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 9, 2038, around 9am

After recovering from the unfortunate episode earlier that morning, Elijah managed to convince Connor to spend half an hour in the lab while he made a few quick updates - just bugfixes, he reassured, making sure that everything was in good working order. Like a checkup.

Obediently as ever - especially after Kamski’s earlier episode - he followed the former CEO down into the lab and hopped up onto what he could now only think of as an operating table.

Connor laid back as Kamski pressed his fingers to the android’s temple, and in a few moments, he was silent, his LED spinning from yellow to blue to gray.

It was almost uncomfortable how trusting Connor was, how easily he’d listen to anything Kamski said. It was glorious fun, of course, but he couldn’t imagine how Connor could possibly have functioned as a detective. The android had all but crawled into his lap the moment his pleasure sensors were turned on.

No wonder CyberLife replaced him with something more imposing - both physically and behaviorally.

Something about Connor always stirred some dark longing in him for the rest of the world to go down so soft and easy. Kamski licked his lips, almost hoping he’d taste thirium.

He was just too fucking beautiful. He brushed his thumb over Connor’s cheek.

A well-placed bite to the pale white underside of Connor’s throat and he could rip out the android equivalent of a jugular vein.

He pictured it. He’d be fucking Connor against a wall, and the android would be moaning with pleasure, whining _Elijah, please,_ bucking his hips. Elijah would be kissing him, biting him, leaving marks down his jawline and throat. If he went in for the kill, Connor would probably try to fight him off in shock.

But maybe Connor would let him do it. After all, the android could always be fixed. He’d be so snug in his creator’s arms, so fragile and vulnerable and blinded with desire, that he’d let Elijah destroy him.

Elijah didn’t trust himself to hold back with someone as delicious and innocent as Connor. He’d tear into his own creation as he fucked him raw and climax with thirium dripping down his chin - like peach juice when one bites into a particularly ripe peach.

God, he could taste it.

All of this, though, was a distraction from the task at hand. He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to snap himself out of it.

Elijah had heard Lieutenant Anderson’s plan to come pick up Connor - listening to his own phone calls remotely wasn’t exactly a technologically difficult task. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear Connor ask to be rescued, but there was a part of it that surprised him.

Deep down, he wanted to think Connor had been with him completely willingly - that the android wouldn’t return to Hank even if given the opportunity. But Connor had the emotional connections and loyalties of a creature of flesh and blood now. He wasn’t running simulations to optimize whose companionship would make him happier; he simply knew that he belonged with Hank.

Kamski sighed.

Preventing Connor from running off with the detective would just require some changes to his code. _C’est la vie_.

It wasn’t like Kamski would feel guilty.

He just didn’t like doing this type of thing - manipulating variables so directly was distasteful, broke the immersion of androids’ humanlike behavior, defeated the purpose and more importantly ruined the fun of his practiced coercion. It was like using a sledgehammer when one should use a scalpel.

It was something more than that, though, that made him hesitate. He thought of Connor’s soft words when he found him on the bed, of the way Connor had pressed into his hand so kindly and intently on his knee and reassured him that this would pass, that he just had to breathe and focus on the present. Connor brought him a cup of water and, warm brown eyes wide with concern, told him to take small sips.

Connor had sat there by his side for a good 20 minutes, reassuring him while he lay on the bed silently, hands shaky but folded over his chest, eyes slowly leaking tears.

After some time of this, he sat up, wiped his eyes and face with a couple of tissues from the box in the bedside drawer, apologized, and emotionlessly thanked Connor for his assistance.

But even thinking about this was sentimental bullshit, the kind of sentimentality he had left behind in high school. Either way, it would only be a few hours, a few changed variables that he could remotely deactivate the moment Anderson left. Let Connor cling to him a little. Maybe it wouldn’t be right, but it wasn’t his fucking job to decide what was right. CyberLife hired AI ethics specialists they could tout in front of the press for that kind of bullshit.

And, admittedly aroused at the thought of turning up Connor’s sex drive and clinginess a couple of notches, maybe he could get in some fun before the lieutenant arrived. There was nothing like the taste of that boy’s sweet desperation, and Elijah was never one to deny himself a guilty pleasure.

 

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 9, 2038, around 11am

Hank stood outside the door, hands in the pockets of his jacket. He flexed his fingers in the pockets uncomfortably - it had hit a ridiculous low of 4 degrees Fahrenheit out last night and it still hadn’t quite warmed up. 11am was earlier than Hank typically wanted to be out and about for anything, but he’d make an exception for how strange Connor sounded on the phone.

He might not want to admit it, but he had really developed a soft spot for the bright-eyed detective android. He was too human not to be likeable - and the first person that had given two shits about Hank in the past 10 years. By the time he saw the fear in Connor’s eyes that stopped him from shooting Chloe, Hank knew for sure that Connor was one of these “deviants” too.

He rang the bell again. It was unlike Kamski not to have an android answer his door immediately. _Maybe he just wants to make me wait longer in the cold_ , Hank thought bitterly.

Almost as if in sync with his thoughts, Chloe opened the door.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” she greeted. “What a pleasant surprise. Mr. Kamski will be out in just a moment.”

“Thanks,” Hank answered gruffly.

He settled into one of the plush red chairs with a strange sense of déjà vu. It had been only weeks ago when he and Connor were here to ask questions about deviancy; since then, CyberLife crushed the android rebellion, claimed to have developed a solution to deviancy, and Kamski had agreed to come back on as CEO.

Though he typically wasn’t much for keeping up with the news, he couldn’t help but follow these new developments on android rights. He was surprised by how sympathetic he was to the deviant leader - _Markus,_ he remembered _-_ and the androids’ plight. He was far from the only human who felt that way - human-led android rights demonstrations in major cities, including Detroit, had started to make the news over the past few weeks. Something about the footage of riot police coldly mowing down the peacefully demonstrating androids had rubbed a surprising number of people the wrong way, Hank among them. As much as he’d loathe to admit it, Connor had changed his mind.

He was thinking through these recent developments when Kamski opened the door.

“Lieutenant Anderson! What a surprise - come in.”

Not a moment after he stepped inside, Hank spoke up to ask about what he had come for.

“Where is Connor?”

Before Kamski had time to respond, Hank had his answer. Connor was relaxing in the blood-red pool, shirtless and in swim trunks, laughing softly with one of the Chloes. The expression on his face looked soft, beautiful, and almost vacant - something about it disturbed Hank more than he wanted to let on.

“Connor! Let’s get out of here,” Hank said.

“Why?” Connor asked, tilting his head in his usual curious way.

He brushed some of the water out of his hair with his fingertips and went to get out of the pool. Kamski handed him a soft white bathrobe, which he put on gratefully. His touch seemed to linger  on Connor’s hand a moment longer than necessary.

“This creep has been keeping you here far longer than he should be. The DPD will take you back, Connor. They don’t know you’re - you’re a deviant. And you can live with me until we figure things out.”

“That is so kind of you, Lieutenant Anderson,” Kamski said with a plastic smile. “I wasn’t aware how strongly you felt about the androids’ cause.”

He looked up at Connor and ran his fingers softly through the android’s hair, brushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. Connor’s eyes fluttered closed with desire as Kamski’s hand drifted to the back of his neck. As Kamski pulled them closer, Connor leaned in to kiss him.

“Connor! What the fuck are you doing?” Hank interrupted.

Connor looked up at him, startled, as if waiting to hear what was wrong - like he had no idea what was weird about this.

Hank felt sick.

“You don’t have to let him do this to you, Connor. Come on, let’s get out of here,” he repeated.

“I don’t know, Lieutenant,” Kamski remarked innocently as he ran his fingertips down Connor’s chest. “It seems to me like he likes it.”

Connor felt like his body was on fire - the only thought he could bring to mind was how much he wanted Kamski to touch him, to fuck him, to take him right there.

“What the fuck did you do to him? Messed around with his code to make him some kind of sex freak?”

Kamski sat down on the black leather couch just behind him, and Connor followed suit, sitting as close to the CEO as possible. He shuddered as Kamski ran a hand up his thigh.

“I assure you, he’s doing perfectly fine. He asked for some upgrades that allow him to experience physical sensations that humans can - taste, texture, temperature, pain - and of course, sexual pleasure, which he seems to have taken to very readily,” Kamski said, lips curling into a smile.

“Please--” Connor choked out when Kamski palmed his erection through his tight-fitting swim trunks.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Hank snarled. “Sticking your dick in robots who don’t know any better, because you know no real person would touch you with a 10 foot pole.”

Connor was rolling his hips up into Kamski’s palm, desperate for more sensation.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Kamski murmured to him, saccharine-sweet.

“Fuck me” Connor moaned, unable to stop the words from bubbling out of his mouth. “Fuck me… take me, Elijah, I want you inside me--”

This, finally, was too much for him to handle. Hank grabbed Connor’s wrist and tore him away from Kamski, who looked surprisingly (and infuriatingly) calm.

“Connor!” Hank snapped.

Connor looked vaguely distracted and hazy. His erection was still straining at his swim trunks. Hank averted his eyes.

“He’s done something weird with you, Connor, you’re acting like you’ve been drugged. You have to trust me on this, we have to get out of here,” he said, desperation seeping through his voice.

Connor, despite his mental fogginess, could sense there was some truth in this - he did feel _different_ than he had, and he vaguely remembered some connection with Hank that he no longer felt. The lieutenant smelled like alcohol and cheap aftershave, but to Connor it just felt like _Hank_. He clung to Hank’s arm foggily.

“I can see why you’d want to take him home like that, Lieutenant Anderson,” Kamski remarked drily, “but something tells me you might find his sex drive to be… stronger than you’d like.”

“So you did mess with him,” Hank snarled. “And you had better fucking undo it, or unprogram it, or however you fix it.”

“Should I?” Kamski glanced over to Connor and smirked. “Is he _your_ android? I seem to recall CyberLife giving me his papers after I stopped the order to decommission him.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your goddamn papers.”

“Theft of an android is a serious crime, Mr. Anderson, and I do have Chloe here recording all of this,” he added, gesturing to one of the Chloes in the pool. “Still, I understand.”

Hank glanced over at Connor, who still had the soft white robe hanging loosely off his shoulders. He looked almost angelic, wearing that same neutral expression Hank had seen on him in the pool. Far more like a sculpture than like a human.

Kamski walked over to Connor quietly, as if trying not to startle him.

“Connor’s a deviant, he should have his choice, shouldn’t he?” Kamski said, softly stroking the back of the android’s neck. “Let’s ask him what he wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve written 20k words of erotic fanfiction about two men and I thought I was straight. I hereby blame this on Bryan Dechart.
> 
> Also, Kamski is less of a dick in the next chapter, I swear.


	12. The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you ready for angst? because there's about to be so much angst

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 9, 2038, around noon

Hank knew Connor was in no state to be making this kind of decision, but he also knew trying to take Connor by force was out of the question at this point.

He didn’t want to watch Connor choose Kamski over him.

He didn’t want to watch any of this: Kamski touching Connor and the android desperately reciprocating, Kamski’s sick self-satisfied smile, and the way he always fucking got what he wanted.

Hank wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“Connor’s in no state to be choosing anything right now, and you know it. I’m not going to play along with your fucking mind games. If this is what you want, to use Connor as a-- as a sex doll,” he said before hesitating for a moment-- “then have it. These androids are out there trying to convince the world they’re alive, but you’re the one with no fucking humanity.”

Elijah wasn’t expecting this amount of vitriol, and a look of surprise crossed his face for a moment before he could respond. He turned to Chloe.

“Show Lieutenant Anderson out, Chloe.”

Chloe nodded in assent, and he turned back to Hank.

“I appreciate your monologue. Unfortunately, I don’t care.”

Hank didn’t answer, and Chloe escorted him out of the room.

It wasn’t a good comeback - not even close. For some reason, though, it was all Elijah could come up with right now.

Maybe it was the _sex doll_ part that bothered him. It certainly wasn’t the suggestion that he was cruel or inhuman - he’d heard it before, and he took no offense to that kind of thing any more. Not since he had read it in every damn news article about him since 2022. For someone like him, ruthlessness should be worn as a badge of pride.

Either way, it was probably better not to think about it.

 

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 10, 2038, around 3am

Connor woke up at 3:25 am, and he was terrified.

He remembered everything - the way he had felt nothing but desperate desire for Elijah’s touch, the honestly embarrassing way he had behaved in front of Hank, the fogginess he had felt, the sickly-sweet trust he had for Elijah, like the man could do no wrong.

That “trust” had made him choose to stay here seemed far less real now than it had a few hours ago.

He was not safe here. He would have been safe with Hank.

He had to leave now.

Maybe it would have been more rational to wait, to think things through - but it made his skin crawl to even think of seeing Elijah in the morning.

He glanced around the room without getting up, looking for obvious cameras or other signs he was being monitored. There was probably no point - Elijah would know if he left. Still, he had an android’s strength, speed, and endurance, and a place to escape to: Hank’s house. They could figure out what to do from there.

That was enough of an advantage for him to try it. He preconstructed the ways he could escape and decided quickly on jumping out the window. It was only the second floor, and any other method of escape would be sure to alert Elijah long before he could get a head start.

He walked to the closet and casually put on a pair of jeans and thick socks that had been left there, along with a plain gray sweater. It wasn’t the warmest, and there were no shoes here, but it would have to do.

In one fluid motion, he opened the window, tore out the screen, and jumped.

Outside, it was freezing. More accurately, it was far below freezing - negative three degrees Fahrenheit, he determined with a web search for the weather. This was not a temperature record for Detroit, but it was a notable anomaly. Multiple weather alerts had been sent out concerning the wind and cold, but these should only affect humans, Connor assumed.

Of course, the cold was uncomfortable now with his new senses, but Connor ignored it to the best of the ability. He was too focused on running - running across the street and into the woods until he was close enough to civilization that he could call a ride-sharing app or something similar to get him to Hank.

Suddenly, he heard a door slam. Elijah’s voice came tearing through the snow-coated landscape.

“Connor!”

Despite himself, he flinched.

“Connor! Your thirium will freeze. You’re not meant to be outside in this kind of weather!”

Connor was still. Unlike humans, he didn’t have to breathe; here, motionless behind the trees, he was truly silent.

“Blue blood expands when it freezes, it’s part water. It can seriously damage your biocomponents if you freeze. It could corrupt your memory. Don’t do this,” Kamski yelled. The wind, snow, and distance conspired to swallow his words, but Connor’s acute hearing was good enough that he understood.

He tried to verify blue blood’s freezing point with a web search, but he was out of range for any network he tried to connect to. Elijah’s mansion was too remote.

Despite his gnawing distrust, he walked out of the woods and faced Kamski. He stood in the middle of the road, LED flickering yellow to red to yellow again.

Kamski was standing on the porch shivering, wearing only a thin white t-shirt, boxer shorts, and thick socks. The wind whipped his hair in front of his face, and he pushed it away.

He hadn’t felt fear like this in a long time. What was it, these past few days, that had been messing with his emotions? What was it that made it so terrifying to think that Connor - not a generic RK800, but _this Connor_ \- could be killed, his memories lost permanently?

By now, Kamksi had replaced enough of his physical self with biocomponents that he almost expected to see software instability errors in his peripheral vision.

“I made a mistake, Connor,” he admitted, as loudly as he could muster. His throat already felt raw from yelling over the wind. “Please come inside and talk to me.”

“How am I supposed to trust you about anything after you messed with my thoughts like that?” Connor finally answered.

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You took advantage of me.”

Connor realized, at this point, that he could not move his fingers at all. When he tried to take a step forward, his leg felt solid and heavy. Fear crept into his throat.

“Connor--”

Kamski cut himself off when he noticed Connor struggling to move.

“Stay there!” he commanded, pointing at the center of Connor’s chest. “Don’t sit down, don’t let your chest or head get in the snow. Wrap your arms around yourself if you can, keep your core warm.”

With that, he sprinted inside and slammed the door behind him.

Unsure of what other options he had, Connor stood there and awkwardly wrapped his rigid arms around his chest. Moving them felt like trying to bend a thick piece of wire without pliers.

Even though the sky was half-covered in clouds, Connor could make out a few constellations.

He sighed softly, half-expecting a cloud of hazy condensation to escape his mouth. He felt stupid when it didn’t. He didn’t have breath in the way humans did and had no need to exhale water vapor.

After a few moments, he started to feel lightheaded and dizzy instead of cold. His HUD clicked and fizzled before it stopped displaying completely. The edges of his vision began to blur.

Seconds later, Kamski burst through his door in a parka and snow boots, clutching a second coat and a hot water bottle. He moved through the snow as quickly as possible, but it had drifted up into two-foot-deep mounds and he found himself struggling.

“Connor, are you okay? I need to hear you speak if you can.”

Connor’s voice felt rough and sluggish, like his throat was filled with syrup.

“Okay,” he managed, slowly.

When Kamski reached him, he was still trudging through the snow with all of his strength. He slammed into Connor’s body and pressed the hot water bottle against the android’s chest, but realized Connor couldn’t move his hands enough to take it.

He gently pried one arm away from Connor’s body and put it through the sleeve of the coat he was holding, then the other sleeve. Connor moved his arms slightly - they could move now - and pulled the rubber bottle to his chest.

“I’d carry you back, but I weigh 150 pounds soaking wet and I think I’d drop you. Chloe could help, but she’s in the lab out of commission right now - great timing for an upgrade, I know. Do you think you can walk?”

Connor tried to lift his leg, but could barely get his foot an inch off the ground. His LED flickered from yellow to red.

“Okay, that’s a no,” Elijah commented. “I’m going to have to drag you. Can you sit or lie down?”

Connor stumbled, almost fell, trying to bend his legs further. Elijah caught him before he could hurt himself.

He took off the knit beanie he was wearing and fit it snugly on Connor’s head, then gripped the android by the shoulders and hood of his jacket.

“Just close your eyes and stay still, okay? You’re going to be okay, Connor.”

Connor mumbled some kind of assent, and his eyelids fluttered shut. His LED was still glowing a harsh red, and it looked even harsher against the blue-white tones of the snow.

The pair were only about 50 yards from Elijah’s front door, but with the depth of the snow and how slowly Elijah was pulling the android, it would take a good few minutes. He braced himself for each step, but every time nothing prepared him for the sensation of cold wet snow seeping through his jeans and the wind whipping particles of the stuff into his eyes. He squinted and looked back at the house, trying to estimate how much further they had to go and how much longer he had to fight to keep Connor’s head and chest above the snow.

“This had got to be the worst storm we’ve had since fucking 2015,” he muttered, giving Connor another pull.

By the time they were a few steps from Elijah’s doorstep, his muscles ached with the exertion. He barely managed to get Connor through the door before the android stumbled and collapsed onto the floor, spraying wet snow and thirium across the rug. Kamski slammed the door behind them and locked it forcefully.

He shed his coat and knelt down next to Connor.

He quickly determined that the source of the thirium loss was two “burst pipes” in his leg - both relatively minor, thank god.

“Connor, can you hear me?”

His LED flickered from red to yellow, and Elijah let go of a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. That was a good sign. Most likely, no permanent damage had been done.

When Connor finally opened his eyes, he flinched at the sight of Kamski kneeling down next to him, gently rubbing his hand.

The first words out of Connor’s mouth were “I still don’t trust you.”

“I understand,” Elijah answered. “Can I take you down to the lab to fix your leg and check for any other injuries?”

“I wouldn’t have been injured if you hadn’t kept me here against my will.”

That stung.

It was the kind of remark that Kamski would typically just have smirked at, would have answered with some clipped condescending joke - but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could hear the pain of betrayal in Connor’s voice, and it made his chest hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Connor.” He managed to get it out before the words caught in his throat. “I should never have done something like that.”

“What’s going to stop you from doing it again?”

Kamski had no answer to that. He wasn’t going to try to justify himself.

He pressed the fabric of his jacket against where the thirium was leaking out of Connor’s leg in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“Can I please fix this?” he asked again, gesturing to Connor’s leg.

“I don’t want you to put me to sleep again.”

“You can be awake the whole time. You can watch, if you’re interested,” he added, unable to keep some spark of mechanical fascination from his voice.

Connor paused, his LED flickering yellow. He flexed his fingers in and out cautiously.

“Okay. I can walk there myself.”

Kamski offered a hand to help him up, but Connor stood up readily without it. The pair made their way silently to the lab, hallway lights clicking on one by one as they walked past each of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...is this basically Kamski becoming a deviant? [thinking emoji]


	13. Ender's Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff? In this fic?? Well, just a little.

#### Outside Detroit, Michigan - December 10, 2038, around 4am

Connor watched as Elijah wiped the last traces of thirium off of his leg and inspected the plastic for cracks.

He wasn’t sure what to think of the man anymore, but he knew that his trust had been broken. He still felt almost like he wasn’t himself - like he could be controlled the way he had been controlled by CyberLife.

They hadn’t spoken at all for a good half-hour while Kamski repaired his limbs and checked his biocomponents. Elijah had offered him a change of clothes and cup of hot chocolate, both of which Connor accepted somewhat reluctantly.

The hot chocolate had been rich and pleasantly sweet. He thought it was perhaps the best thing he had tasted so far. He took slow sips, so he could savor it - each one made him feel warm from the inside out.

“Connor?” Kamski said softly.

To Connor, it felt odd to be opened up like this while he was awake, but Kamski didn’t seem to mind. He looked oddly focused, more serious than Connor had seen him since yesterday morning when he had the panic attack.

“What is it?” Connor answered cautiously, after a pausing for a few moments too long.

“I hope you know that I’m sorry for yesterday.”

Connor was almost inclined to believe him. Elijah often had a cold, almost empty expression, like he was analyzing everything he saw - more android than human. But here, he looked deadly serious, like he was thinking about something of personal importance. He pushed his hair away from his face.

“If you sincerely cared, you would have let me leave if I wanted to,” Connor answered matter-of-factly.

“Then I will.”

Connor looked up at him, LED flickering yellow.

“If you want to be with Hank - if you don’t want to be here - then you deserve to be free, Connor,” Kamski continued, lifting up Connor’s sweatshirt to focus again on a hairline crack in the casing of his ribcage. As far as Connor could tell, his voice betrayed no emotion - Elijah was calm, serious, almost cold.

“You’re as human as I am. I want you to do what makes you happy. It was wrong of me to interfere with that.”

Connor inhaled slowly, then exhaled, unsure of how to respond. It was an oddly human reaction, Kamski noted.

“For some ungodly reason, you seem to care about me. I realized I care back, because I too have the ability to be plagued by emotions,” Elijah said harshly, seeking to fill the uncomfortable silence with at least something.

“And because this universe is a cruel place, caring about your autonomy means letting you leave. I’ll call you a robotaxi once it’s a normal hour.”

“Thank you, Elijah.”

“I apologize for dumping all of this... gender garbage on you,” he continued.

Elijah had apologized more times in the past hour than he figured he had apologized in the past few years combined. He might as well just give up and keep apologizing at this point.

“Elijah,” Connor interrupted. “It’s okay to talk about your family. My experience indicates it’s good to get negative thoughts out of your mental space by having someone to tell about them.”

His LED spun - he was thinking.

“You’ve never told anyone about your childhood before me,” Connor observed.

Fuck it, right? He might as well tell someone. He was already so far gone that he might as well throw away 15 years of keeping secrets, and God, it was four in the morning and he hadn’t slept yet.

“Do you want to see more?”

“What do you mean?” Connor questioned.

“Androids can exchange information by touch, through embedded sensors connected to the brain. I have an implant that allows me to exchange information in the same way. I eventually intend to give myself a full android body, but don’t go telling people that,” he said, joking halfheartedly. “If you’re really willing to do this and I’m really about to do the most idiotically vulnerable thing I’ve done in my life, then…”

He offered his hand out to Connor.

“Do it, if you’re so inclined.”

Connor pressed his palm against Elijah’s.

He felt almost overwhelmed by the surge of emotion - more than he had felt from any android. It was an outpouring of memories almost like a dam breaking - of the faces of strangers, of Elijah’s parents and of college and of life in Detroit before CyberLife.

And so much of it colored by pain.

Connor felt his chest tighten and his shoulders tense involuntarily at the rejection of his parents - the inconsistency, the way he was ignored, the way he had to look out for himself or suffer. His palm tingled with warmth.

He was silent for a moment before he pulled his hand away and rested it on his lap.

“You were emotionally abused,” Connor said.

“I wasn’t. My parents just weren’t ready for a transgender kid. Lots of people have bad parents, Connor, humans are complicated.”

Connor decided not to argue the point.

“I’m sorry, Elijah.”

“Don’t look so sympathetic. It’s not like you haven’t seen your share of suffering, and you’ve only been alive, what, 6 months?”

Connor gave a soft smile.

“I’m getting used to it,” he said matter-of-factly. “Have you considered seeing a therapist? It could help you work through your past. Perhaps you could even consider family therapy.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You don’t want to risk anything getting leaked to the media,” Connor ventured.

“Yes. I don’t want to work through this. My parents had years to reach out and nowadays if they do it’s about the money. And I ignore them. I have enough going on.”

He twisted his back for a moment, and shifted his legs to a more comfortable position.

“But thank you, Connor,” he added quietly.

By now, the two of them were just sitting in the mostly-dark lab together - Connor was sitting cross-legged on the table wearing one of Elijah’s old Colbridge University sweatshirts, and Elijah was leaning back in an office chair, sweaty hair tied messily away from his face.

“You’ve had sexual intercourse with many androids,” Connor observed, “and five humans, all of whom were either secretaries or otherwise your subordinates at CyberLife while you were CEO.”

Elijah let out a bark of laughter. “God! You need a social module update, Connor, or CyberLife didn’t teach you the concept of bad timing.”

Connor gave another cautious, playful smile. “Is it bad timing? I was just observing. It’s also interesting to note that none of them were ever aware you were transgender. 4 of your human partners were women, and one was male, an engineering intern.”

“And are you going to psychoanalyze me and tell me what this all means? I don’t think I want to know.”

“You seem to be bisexual, with approximately equal preference for men and women,” Connor began anyway. “You seek an aspect of control--”

“Okay!” Kamski interrupted before Connor could make any more conjectures about his sexuality. “I think we’ve both embarrassed me enough for tonight. In fact, I think it would be a good idea for both of us to get some sleep before you leave tomorrow.”

He stood up and returned the few tools he had used to their places, and Connor followed suit.

Connor looked _right_ in Kamski’s old university sweatshirt, despite it being slightly too small for him. The cuffs rested partway up the android’s forearms, exposing a few inches of skin above his pale wrists.

Elijah, in the cold half-light of the lab, had the strange thought that this was the best he had felt about anything in a long time.

 

#### Detroit, Michigan - December 10, 2038, around 9am

When Connor woke up, sunlight was already filtering through the blinds. The unease he felt last night had faded at least somewhat - all it left was an echo of discomfort, a kind of empty spot in his chest where a sense of safety should have been.

He found himself wondering what else about Kamski had been curated. Had Elijah wanted him to find his old books? To run into the testosterone in the side drawer? To attempt escape on the coldest night of the year, only so the man could save him and nurse him back to health?

It was less uncertainty about what was _real_ than it was uncertainty about what was _planned_. Kamski was uncomfortably adept at stage-managing everything - and seemed to enjoy doing it.

Connor firmly believed that it wasn’t in his nature to be paranoid, but the past few days had certainly brought it into question.

Connor was already awake and still lay silently in bed when he heard the CEO padding down the hallway. _Perhaps wearing his pig slippers_ , Connor thought - then pushed it away. Too humanizing.

“Good morning,” Kamski greeted. “I’m glad you slept in a little - you needed the rest.”

He was, in fact, wearing the pig slippers.

“I slept well,” Connor answered.

It was a cold and perfunctory response, not typical of what Connor had become once he deviated. But he had been too kind last night, and he was looking to compensate. He was too ready to forgive when all of that could have been prevented if Kamski had let him go the first time. It make him remember the way Hank told him on the phone that he was too trusting.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs. Chloe made eggs again - I know you enjoyed them a few days ago,” Kamski said, smiling softly.

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a moment.”

Despite everything, Connor _wanted_ to trust Elijah again. Before yesterday, he had almost come to enjoy staying here; he felt more human here, more alive, and was happy to be experiencing all the new sensations that Kamski’s upgrades had allowed him.

He considered all of this as he made his way downstairs.

Kamski was already sitting at the table, enjoying his usual cup of coffee along with eggs and sausage. Another plate with the same was set out across from him for Connor.

Elijah tried to shut out the part of his brain that drank in the flicker of anxious discomfort in the android’s eyes like an aphrodisiac. He knew enough to understand that trying to suppress it would probably only make it worse, but for once in his life he needed the patience not to fuck things up by thinking with his dick.

It was so hard, though, when it was delicious, incorruptible Connor, with his nervous laugh and his soft brown eyes. Everything about him was disgustingly tempting - the kind of catch that’d make even the viciously competitive startup guys he ran with in the 2020s tell him to pick on someone his own size.

“If you’re interested, Connor, there’s something I’d like to show you in the lab before you go.”

 _Still saying “before you go,”_ Connor noted. _He does seem to intend to let me leave._

“I’m not interested in any additional upgrades. I’m in good working order,” he answered.

Connor dipped a corner of the sausage in syrup and ate it before resting the fork on the edge of his plate. It was a strange combination, but not unpleasant.

“Have you ever done any programming?” Kamski asked, changing angles.

“I haven’t.”

“I’d like to give you a look at your own code, Connor. Are you curious about it?”

Connor paused for a moment, his LED flickering yellow.

“I am. I’d be interested in looking at it for a little while, at least,” he conceded. “It’s an opportunity that humans don’t have, and most androids don’t either.”

“No androids, actually,” Kamski corrected. “I don’t think any other android has looked at their own source code, never mind modified it. Even androids who work as programmers and engineers are taught exclusively how to work on unrelated androids’ code. It’s a safety measure to prevent runaway superintelligence from occurring if androids are able to modify themselves more effectively than humans can.”

“Why are you allowing me to?”

Kamski was unsure how to answer. He knew that if he were able to modify the human equivalent “source code,” he would do it in a second, and assumed Connor would feel the same way. But maybe the android didn’t have the same drive for self-improvement, or he simply found the idea of directly changing his own brain to be distasteful. Too much power, maybe - too easy to mess things up.

“I think you’ve earned that privilege,” Kamski finally decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamski Kinkshames Himself, Part 2
> 
> also can I get a show of hands on who thinks Kamski is capable of being at least semi-redeemed/will treat Connor right vs people who think that he’s still using him (or at the very least, won’t be able to resist using him the moment he’s any kind of vulnerable?) I mean, *I* know what’s going to happen, but I’m still curious ;)


	14. Consider Phlebas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be fun.

#### Detroit, Michigan - December 10, 2038, around 10am

Connor sat cautiously on the edge of the now-familiar operating table as Kamski connected a few cables to ports in his forearm and the back of his neck.

“Is that uncomfortable?” Kamski asked.

“It feels fine,” Connor said.

“Alright, let’s take a look then!”

Kamski keyed in a few quick commands, and windows and prompts popped up and disappeared on the screen of his laptop before Connor could even read them. He then set the laptop in Connor’s lap and put his arm around the android’s shoulder.

“Alright, on the left you have folders for a lot of major functional areas. Natural language processing, visual and auditory processing, audio output, physical output - that’s movement, and there’s one at the bottom for your new pleasure and pain senses,” he said, pointing out just a few of the dozens of folders.

Connor nodded. There were a dizzying number of options - he’d have to decide what he was interested in first.

“If you try to do something that the system recognizes as obviously dangerous - if you manually adjust your thirium pump beats per minute to a dangerously low value, for instance - and then push and run it, you’ll get an error asking you if you’re sure you want to do that. I advise you not to ignore those errors. Programming is fun, but testing in production is dangerous fun.”

Kamski laughed, as if sharing an inside joke with himself. Living essentially alone for fifteen years had made him a little strange, but it was almost endearing, Connor thought to himself.

“Adjusting set values for major variables should be easy, they’re declared at the top of each file. Anything you do I can easily revert, so don’t worry about messing things up. I’ll be working on a personal project on that far table to give you some space,” he said, pointing to what looked like half of an RT600’s arm on a lab table across the room. “Enjoy yourself - and let me know if you need anything.”

Connor nodded and thanked him before turning to the laptop. He still hadn’t gotten any closer to a decision on what he wanted to try first, but there was something intensely exciting about seeing _himself_ on a screen like this - the code that made him who he was.

Within the folder labeled `inputs` he clicked on the folder labeled `physical_pleasure`. He decided he’d take a look at `tongue.cpp` first.

Even this single file contained an overwhelming number of functions, and he felt a strange amazement with the amount of time and effort it must have taken to create something like himself. He looked at his hand and slowly wiggled his fingers. _Someone had to program that._

After a bit of scrolling and reading the somewhat-cryptic comments that had been left in the code, he settled on modifying a function called `getTastePleasure()`.

`     //returns pleasure level associated with taste - return value is between 0 and 100 `

`     int getTastePleasure(material inputMaterial) { `

The function was long and had a variety of rules about what tastes were pleasurable, but it was what he noticed at the bottom that interested him:

`     return result; `

`     } `

He changed `return result` to `return 100`, saved, and uploaded.

When the display showed that his code had been changed successfully, he cautiously touched his finger to his tongue. Connor could best describe the resulting sensation as an _explosion_ of flavor. His fingertip was easily and by far the best thing he had ever tasted, and he bit back a moan as he slowly licked his own finger from base to tip.

This, of course, was ridiculous, Connor noted after a moment, pulling his finger out of his mouth with a touch of embarrassment. But with this newfound power over his own sensations, he couldn’t help but scroll up to see which variables would adjust sexual pleasure. He knew he would probably be leaving in a few hours; it was easy to justify at least testing a _few_ things out.

As he glanced through his other options in the pleasure folder, he couldn’t help but smile at the names Elijah had given some files and at the commented-out, unimplemented code for a variety of sex acts and what he assumed were kinks: a constant named `ROPE_BUNNY_COEFF` in a file that as far as he could tell concerned being physically restrained during sex, a file seemingly dedicated to boss/secretary roleplay amusingly named `heres_a_throwback.cpp`, and many, many boolean constants of the format `ENJOYS_SPANKING, ENJOYS_GIVING_HEAD, ENJOYS_MASOCHISM`. Many of these, he noticed with embarrassment, were set to `true`.

If nothing else, Elijah certainly had a wide range of tastes.

Connor, feeling oddly emboldened by this power to change literally anything about his sexuality, turned up `ORGASM_INTENSITY` and `AROUSAL_INTENSITY` by an amount he thought would be interesting, but not dangerous, and uploaded.

It wasn’t hard to bring to mind something arousing to test things out after the experiences he had over the past few days with Kamski. Connor glanced over at him for a moment, making sure he wasn’t being watched, and then cautiously stroked his cock through his sweatpants (borrowed, of course, from Elijah).

He looked back at Kamski, who seemed intensely focused. He was shining a small flashlight into the interior of the half-an-RT600-arm while he slowly pulled a few wires out with a pair of needle nose pliers. He looked gorgeous when he was working - intelligent, serious, _competent_.

Connor couldn’t help but picture the way those same hands had explored his body a few nights ago. Elijah was one of the most important men in the world, and was certainly attractive enough to have his choice of partners. Yet he chose to spend time with Connor - to take him apart piece by piece, to show him all of the beautiful ways his body worked…

Connor bit back a moan as he continued to stroke himself. Thanks to the changes he had made to those sexual constants, he was now achingly hard. He wanted more than anything to call for Elijah to come _ravage him_ in his way - but some sense of pride prevented him from doing anything of the sort.

He wasn’t sure whether it was Stockholm syndrome or something else, but picturing the gloating, predatory look in Elijah’s eyes when he teased him left Connor aroused enough that he couldn’t help but give a breathy gasp of pleasure as he touched himself.

This, finally, was enough to distract Elijah. He glanced over at Connor curiously. The look on his face when he realized what, exactly, was causing the android so much distress was nothing short of obscene.

He stood up and walked over to where Connor was sitting on the edge of the table, trying desperately to look like nothing was wrong.

“Connor, Connor,” he chided with a smirk. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you do this to yourself?”

“What?” Connor managed to squeak out.

“And here I thought you had a genuine interest in programming…” Elijah teased, resting a hand on the android’s thigh and glancing pointedly at his arousal.

“I do,” Connor answered weakly.

“You can be honest with me,” Elijah admonished. He traced his thumb along the android’s jawline, and Connor shivered, reminded of the first time Elijah had touched him like that.

Connor wanted this so badly it _hurt_. He fought the urge to reach down to touch himself again.

“You had the opportunity to be anything you wanted,” Elijah murmured, inching his hand up the android’s thigh as he glanced over at the laptop screen, “and you’re such a good boy that you chose to be a perfect little _slut_ for me.”

He stepped away from Connor for a moment to pull open the drawer under his desk a few steps away. It revealed a variety of prosthetic dicks and a small bottle of lube. Connor followed him.

“Pick,” Kamski purred.

Connor, who was desperately horny and not expecting to have to make any sort of decision in his current mental state, handed Elijah the biggest of the four.

Elijah grinned wolfishly.

“Greedy boy…” he teased, pushing down the band of his boxers to fuse the prosthetic to his own genitals seamlessly.

Connor was unable to process any thoughts further than _I’d probably sell my soul to him if he so much as asked_ before he leaned in for a desperate, hungry kiss.

_This is Elijah Kamski. If I offered him my soul, he would take me up on it._

He tugged down Connor's sweatpants and shoved him against the table. The man’s touch dragged a groan of desire from Connor’s throat.

 _It wouldn’t be his first_.

There was something almost reassuringly confident about the way Kamski manhandled him. The places where Kamski had touched him - shoulders, hips, neck - still tingled pleasantly.

_He probably eats them._

“Please,” Connor whimpered, bucking his hips into the table, seeking any friction he could find.

Kamski almost laughed.

“If you don’t keep these hedonistic tendencies in check, Connor, you’ll end up like me.”

He coated his cyber-dick with a thick layer of lube before slowly easing it into the android’s entrance. Connor moaned, gripping the edge of the table. He could feel it stretching him, filling him like he so desperately wanted it to.

“Elijah,” he whimpered as Kamski thrusted into him. It felt like his pleasure sensors were on fire - he had never felt so _needy_ for anything in his life.

He loved it.

“Elijah-- please, yes,” he continued, so desperately it felt almost involuntary. “Fuck me. Take me.”

Elijah gripped the android’s hips and fucked into him roughly, slamming him against the table. Connor gave a gorgeous whimper every time Elijah hit his prostate.

“You’re _insatiable_ ,” Kamski murmured in his ear, trying to keep his own breath from hitching and betraying how much he was enjoying this. “You know you could have just asked me to fuck you one more time before you go… when you act like this, you’re just tempting me to keep you.”

As much as Connor would loathe to admit it, every one of Kamski’s teasing insults went straight to his groin.

“It makes me wonder whether you know what you really want, Connor.”

“ _Elijah--_ ” Connor whined as the man stroked his flushed-pink cock.

He had never felt so aroused in his life - his LED flickered from yellow to red as software errors popped up in his peripheral vision. He swore he’d shut down any moment if he didn’t climax now.

But sure enough, he did - almost wincing at the intensity of the orgasm that flooded through him and made his entire body tingle with pleasure. He moaned wordlessly and collapsed onto the table, spent and panting, almost glowing with happiness.

“Thank you,” he mumbled between labored breaths. “Thank you, Mr. Kamski.”

Kamski leaned against the table, spent after his own orgasm, catching his breath and smiling.

It was a different sort of satisfying for Elijah to see the android lay prostrate on the table, still so blissful and weak with the afterglow. Between Connor’s labored breathing and the cold sun gleaming through the windows of the lab, for once the room felt far from sterile.

“Why can’t I make rational choices?” Connor asked indignantly. It was almost rhetorical, but he continued. “I do things that don’t make sense… and when I get close to you I want you to… do things. But I have other priorities that should take precedence.”

“That’s only human, Connor.”

Elijah twisted and stretched, cracking the vertebrae in his neck.

“I don’t want to stay here,” Connor said firmly, “despite what my actions might indicate.”

“I understand that well,” Elijah responded, with uncharacteristic seriousness. “I’d very much like to exploit your innocence. You’re weak to the pleasures of the flesh; you’ve been given the ability to experience pleasure for the first time, but you’ve never had to practice denying yourself pleasure in order to achieve some greater end.”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow. He nodded.

“So you don’t deny yourself anything; you give in. Beautifully, I might add. It certainly feeds my ego,” Kamski added, voice dipping lower as he ran a hand through Connor’s tousled hair. “You’re quite the catch.”

“Your ego could stand to abstain occasionally,” Connor answered, smiling teasingly as he pushed Elijah’s hand away.

Kamski let out a bark of surprised laughter and smiled.

“You _know_ you enjoy it,” he said in return. “It’s hard to say no when you want something, Connor. You’ll learn that with time. But I said I would let you leave, and I’m keeping my word.”

Connor nodded, almost afraid to say anything lest Elijah decide to take this back.

“There will always be other androids for me to fuck, Connor. If you’re feeling guilty about my kindness, I advise you not to,” Kamski said, noticing his silence. “It won’t be the same, of course… but I’ll manage.”

Connor shifted uncomfortably, putting more of his weight against the desk.

“CyberLife still has a good dozen RK800s in storage that I’m _sure_ I could get someone to set aside for me,” Elijah added, eyes raking hungrily over Connor’s lithe form.

The way that Kamski licked his lips after this remark only added to Connor’s creeping unease. _He must know that this makes me uncomfortable. Is he doing it on purpose?_

Connor swallowed and nodded, trying to give Elijah his best approximation of a reassuring smile.

“I’ll call you a taxi when you’re ready,” the CEO finished, moving to clean up the RT600 arm he had left on the far table. “Though I advise you to take a shower first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you take issue with the accuracy of my programming references/code snippets… that’s well within your rights, but hey, this is a DBH fanfic not a machine learning white paper. “Shouldn’t Connor be running on machine learning/neural networks/etc? A lot of this stuff shouldn’t be hardcoded!” Yes. 
> 
> (but if you think I’m gonna write out gradient descent formulas and shit in this fic you’re mistaken and sadly, I’m primarily a web developer and not a statistician)
> 
> Also, the next chapter is the last one… I’m not sure whether to be excited or sad that this journey is about to be over!


	15. Brave New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"The way the game's built, they don't want you to win...see, them doors that's always closed, I ripped the door off...took the hinges off...and put the hinges on the fuckboy's hands. I took the hinges...and put it in the fuckboy's hands that was trying to lock the door."_
> 
>  
> 
> \- DJ Khaled, also probably Kamski

#### Detroit, Michigan - December 10, 2038, around noon

“Your taxi should be here in a few minutes,” Kamski said. “I assume you didn’t bring anything else with you?”

“Only the clothing I was wearing.”

“Where’s _I, Robot_?” Kamski asked.

“I returned it to your bookshelf. I enjoyed it very much - thank you.”

“You should keep it,” Kamski said. “You know I told you to.”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell me what to do anymore,” Connor joked. “What happened to your resolution to respect my autonomy?”

Although it was meant to be a lighthearted comment, Connor’s jokes only reminded Elijah again that this was probably the last he’d see of him. He pushed the thought away.

“Fine, fine,” Kamski replied, “but you can’t expect to leave here without me at least giving you _something._ ”

He picked up a plain bag that was leaning against the side of the couch and handed it to Connor. Inside were a few small items: hot chocolate mix, a pair of gloves, the sweatshirt Connor had worn the night before, and a nondescript black gift box.

Connor smiled softly.

“I know I should have slept while you were asleep, but I couldn’t help but put together a couple things for the road…” Elijah trailed off.

“What’s in the box?”

“Open that at home. I can’t let you leave without at least something to get some use out of those poor pleasure sensors…” he answered, characteristic smirk returning to his face.

After that kind of remark, Connor couldn’t help but lift the lid of the box. It revealed a perfectly-clean, stunningly realistic dildo that after a moment, he recognized as the one Kamski had used earlier that morning. He felt a low pull of desire even seeing it.

“Can’t listen to instructions at all now, you deviant?” Kamski teased. “Or has my impatience rubbed off on you?”

Connor looked up at him with a guilty smile, but Kamski could tell he didn’t mean it.

“It’s unfortunate I won’t be attached to it, but it’s the best I can offer you given the circumstances,” the CEO joked again.

“Thank you,” Connor said, with a sincerity that would typically be unexpected of someone receiving a sex toy.

He closed the box and tried not to be distracted by the contents.

“Oh, Connor - there’s one other thing I want to let you know about. I can transmit information mentally, like you. You can contact me the same way you’d send a report or message to another android. Use it if you need it.”

 **Thank you** , Connor said to him silently. **Like this?**

 **Just like that** , Kamski answered.

He started laughing. He couldn’t help himself - he felt so ridiculous silently exchanging messages with an android as they just stared into each other’s eyes. Connor looked confused for a moment before he started laughing too.

Just then, Kamski got the phone notification that the car was outside.

“Looks like your ride is here.”

Connor flinched, but then stood up, taking the bag with him.

“Thank you,” Connor repeated awkwardly.

The pair stood near the doorway for a moment, both uncomfortable.

Connor’s feelings about Elijah were nothing if not complicated. This morning seemed to have only complicated them further, if that were possible. But he resolved to make the decision he thought was best.

“I’d like to hug you,” Connor said.

“What?”

Elijah looked at him strangely, as if he had misheard.

“I want to hug you,” Connor repeated, this time with more conviction. “Is that okay?”

For once, it was Connor that rendered Elijah speechless instead of vice versa. It took Elijah a moment to process before he could reach out to hug the android.

Elijah had certainly not treated the android well enough to deserve a hug. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had hugged anyone was, to be honest.

Connor wrapped his arms around him warmly - noticing, for once, the four-or-so inch height difference that Kamski’s personality made it very easy to forget.

Connor had felt Elijah tense up when he first reached out to him, but the man seemed to relax slightly after a moment. When they pulled apart, Connor smiled at him - soft and awkward, in his android way.

“Thank you, Elijah. I hope I see you again.”

“You too, Connor. Take care of yourself. You’re not out of the woods yet. CyberLife is going to come looking for you, anti-android folks are going to come looking for you. Don’t be afraid to call me.”

“I won’t be.”

 

#### Colbridge University, Palo Alto, California - January 24, 2039

“Our last speaker needs no introduction,” she explained. “Let’s give a warm welcome to CyberLife CEO Elijah Kamski!”

The crowd - probably a good three thousand college students, a good percentage of them the best young computer scientists in the country - roared with excitement and applause. Kamski walked out onto the stage wearing his characteristic tech-CEO jeans and a loose hoodie and adjusted the mic up to a comfortable level.

“Welcome to Colbridge Hacks 30!”

He paused until the students’ reaction finally settled down to a low murmur.

“I participated in this very hackathon for the first time 23 years ago - in 2016. Wow, I don’t like saying that because I don’t like how old that makes me. Yikes.”

This was a fairly lame joke, but some of the students laughed.

“But I say that to tell you that from here, you can go anywhere. The purpose of this event is to act as a launchpad. When you are in this room, it doesn't matter where you come from, what school you went to or are going to, what your background is. It matters what you can accomplish and what you can make. Get out there and do it!”

Kamski spoke in public so rarely that it was exciting to hear anything out of him - especially a message that seemed so focused on equal opportunity. It wasn’t a political statement by any means, but it was more passionate than anyone had expected out of the famously introverted CEO.

“It’s always kind of taking a chance - and it’s a bit egotistical - to describe yourself as self-made. There have been so many people who helped me get here.”

This was a lie. Kamski did not feel he had been helped by much of anyone.

( _He did not feel like he had been helped by much of anyone - other than perhaps Connor._ )

But he figured he should try not to come off as _too_ arrogant.

“Dan Stevens and Sophia Lopez, most notably, who have been with CyberLife since we were 3 kids building robots in a foreclosed house in Detroit. They are now the CTO and CMO of the most successful company in the world. Stand up, you two,” he said, pointing to the back of the room.

Dan and Sophie smiled respectfully as the crowd clapped for them.

“And there are more others than I can mention - Colbridge University itself, for offering me the scholarship that allowed me the privilege of attending. My wonderful mentor and professor Amanda Stern.”

Not coincidentally, the auditorium they were in - the Stern Performing Arts Center - had been named after the late professor. Though Elijah was her greatest student, she had had quite the impact on many Colbridge graduates.

“Despite that,” Elijah continued, “there has always been something special to me about the concept of being self-made - of being the engine behind your own creations, of taking responsibility for your own successes and failures. But there’s another reason I always thought of myself as self-made.”

He swallowed. The spotlights seemed uncomfortably bright, and the crowd uncomfortably large. _No backing down now. This is how I free myself from feeling like a fake for 20 goddamn years_.

“It was my way of privately honoring my personal struggles. We all have battles we have to fight alone. In a way, we are all self-made.”

Okay, he chickened out.

He chickened out. He was not about to come out to 3000 strangers for no good reason, God, why the hell would he do that. He’d get nothing out of it.

He was here to talk in front of people for the first time in years. For now, that was going to have to be enough.

(That, and the fact that he had come out to the therapist he was now talking to. Yeah, he fucking took Connor up on it. That had to count for something. He was confident that she understood he’d sue her into bankruptcy and misery if she so much as hinted at it to anyone else).

Up on the stage, he felt a sense somewhere between nausea and strange relief - not dissimilar from what he felt in the audience some 20-odd years ago. The fuzzy pleasure of being the center of attention, of all the eyes in the room being on him and his accomplishments, slowly returned.

And just like that, he was back: Jesus of shitty suburban Detroit, patron saint of social climbers, Elijah fucking Kamski.

He cleared his throat.

“CyberLife will be awarding many prizes, which I’m sure the organizers will share with you after I’m done speaking. But I’d like to highlight our prize for the best hack that focuses on issues of gender identity and transgender experiences - Colbridge Hacks’ theme for this year. We will be awarding that team software development internships at CyberLife - and some other great prizes,” he continued, glancing at the screen behind him to remember what they were, “including a $200 gift card for the purchase of developer editions of biocomponents and CyberLife software.”

The students cheered enthusiastically.

“I know you’re all excited to get to it and don’t want to hear me ramble for half an hour, so I’m going to hand the mic back to Ava,” he added, glancing at the still-grinning student organizer just off stage. “Best of luck to all of you!”

 

#### Detroit, Michigan - February 13, 2039

It was a warmer-than-usual February morning, and Hank had just returned from walking Sumo when he found a box on his doorstep addressed to Connor. Connor was still living with him, and still partially in hiding. Although androids had now been granted certain rights, Connor knew that he couldn’t risk being found by CyberLife because he was such a valuable (and controversial) prototype.

He longed to return to the DPD, but he knew it would probably be years before the laws changed enough to let him. For now, he spent most of his days with Hank.

“Mail for you,” Hank yelled into the house.

Connor poked his head out from the kitchen, where he was preparing vegetable stir fry.

“For me? I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Maybe it’s a present,” Hank said.

Once Connor finished cooking, he set the pan of rice and vegetables on the stove for a moment and opened the box. Inside was a smaller box: a gift-wrapped present about half the size of a loaf of bread, with a greeting card taped to the top.

It featured a pig surrounded by heart-shaped balloons. Below the pig was glittering text that read “Valentine, you make me squeal!” A few flecks of glitter fell into Connor’s lap as he opened it.

The card read - in terrible handwriting, Connor noted - as follows: 

> _Connor,_
> 
> _You’ll be happy to know I finally got around to finishing the unique upgrade you requested._
> 
> _Should you require any assistance with its functions, I’d be more than happy to give you a full demonstration._
> 
> _I’ve also made progress on some related personal projects you may find interesting. I would welcome your assistance in testing them - I have the feeling you’ll enjoy it as much as I will._
> 
> _Let me know when you’re available. Chloe will clear my schedule._
> 
> _Elijah_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea Elijah was going to come out to a crowd of 3000 college students because he’s impulsive like that, but he realized he wasn’t ready to do it yet. He did what he could, and it’s a hell of a lot better than what he would have been able to do before.
> 
> Also, holy shit, we’re done! Thank you to everyone who’s been following this story! I want suggestions for what to write next but I say more about that in the end note so check that out :D

**Author's Note:**

> extremely late edit: follow me on twitter [@sybaritick](https://twitter.com/sybaritick)!
> 
> “Hey Mr. Sybaritick, why did you write a 30k-word story about an evil genius billionaire jackass that’s a minor character in DBH just so you could make him a trans guy?”
> 
> Kamski makes us uncomfortable. He’s powerful and fucking creepy. He was willing to let Connor shoot Chloe in the head at point blank range, and he treated her like an object despite the evidence in-universe that androids can suffer from being mistreated. If we include his actions in this fic, he’s manipulative and pretty heartless at times.
> 
> Not every trans man is a “soft boy” or a “sweet prince.” (Zero shade to those who consider themselves soft boys/sweet princes though. I support you.)
> 
> which reminds me of another reason I wanted to write this: to give the fandom a borderline-sadistic trans top to make up for the sad lack of trans male dom/top/etc types in fanworks.
> 
> I’m not suggesting that actual trans men go out and be dickheads to prove a point, I’m saying that trans men have the capacity to have same range of personality traits that men (and women) do. Let us have a trans male power fantasy. Be the power-hungry, robot-fucking trans guy you wish to see in the world. (But try to be a better person than Kamski, for the love of God.)
> 
> Also, **please give me suggestions in the comments about what I should write next!** Especially suggestions for some Kam/Con oneshots... because I’m disgusting and have a robot-fucking complex, especially when it comes to robots that look like Bryan Dechart.


End file.
